


THROUGH THE ASHES WE CLIMB

by ThroughtheMirrorDarkly



Series: Marked and Branded [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Image, Cult of Andraste - Freeform, Depression, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Drama, Epilepsy, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Hinterlands (Dragon Age), Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Inquisitor isn't the Herald, Long way home, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern Girl in Thedas, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Slow Burn, Storm Coast (Dragon Age), Suspense, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Trespasser DLC spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 76,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly/pseuds/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly
Summary: The Herald of Andraste is not a title Echo Harper wanted, but fate rarely gives us a choice. With the Inquisition, Echo must find allies and a way to close the Breach, save the world from ruin, but that is no easy task when new and old foes are around every corner. But an unlikely ally comes in the form of a old friend, whose life is tied fundamentally in the tapestry of destiny right alongside of Echo's, and Echo's only hope of saving her is the most dangerous foe of all: The wolf that is right upon her doorstep.





	1. Where Fate Guides Us

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank everyone who loved "Marked", and hope you will enjoy the continuations of it. Thanks! :D
> 
> The theme song for this story is: "Ashes of Eden" by Breaking Benjamin

THROUGH THE ASHES WE CLIMB

 _Main Theme: Ashes of Eden,_ by Breaking Benjamin

By ThroughtheMirrorDarkly

Chapter One 

“Where Fate Guides Us”

* * *

“It’s so… _green.”_

Those were Echo’s famous first words when they first arrived at the Hinterlands after five days travel. She refused a steed because none of the others had one, and her feet were getting their revenge by painfully throbbing and aching. Her face was screwed up in to a squint as she glared against the noon sun, and she was right damnit. It wasn’t her first trip to the Hinterlands, by far, but something about her surroundings in this moment struck something deep inside of her. Everything was _too_ green. The flowers were in bloom, the breeze was just perfect. It was the perfect picture if an artist dared to paint it, but probably not right now. With all the mages and templars ready to turn this place into a bloody burning battleground, it probably wasn’t the best place for a painter to set up an easel and canvas. 

Maybe that’s why she was so angry. The Hinterlands had been her refuge just as much as Haven had been, and now both were in the center of carnage and despair. Her safe places, her homes away from home had been corrupted by the Templar-Mage War, and it made her blood boil. All this beauty was wasted, and would be nothing, but ash if the zealots had their way. And she meant both Templar zealots and mage zealots. When one abandon all reason and gave into madness that harmed innocents, in Echo’s mind they were nothing more than that. 

“Have I ever told you, Mockingbird, that I just love it when you state the glaring obvious,” Varric commented, wryly. 

“Don’t make me send you back to Haven, Varric,” Echo threatened, but they both knew she would never actually go through with it. “With Cassandra as your guide.” 

Varric made a face, and Cassandra scowled. If Echo hadn’t seen Cassandra smile once with her own eyes, she would believe that a scowl was the only expression the woman could ever make. Solas remained studiously quiet, his eyes calculating everything around him. Most of all, Echo. 

Echo tried not to let her discomfort show. Things with Solas were…things were infinitely more complicated now, weren’t they? He was the Dread Wolf, after all. There was no doubt in her mind and her heart that this was the truth. Solas had been a trickster and glorified villain if the tales the Dalish spoke of held any truth. Not that she had told anyone. No, she had kept her lips shut. If he was an Elvhen deity with an untold amount of power at his finger tips, and he was as mad as the stories made him out to be, letting him know she knew his identity would be suicide. 

Her eyes flickered towards the mage, and there was a flicker of doubt in her chest. The stories said he was mad and yet…that memory. _“Ar lasa mala revas, da’len.” Gentle words whispered, and lips pressed against the crown of her forehead. Magic weaved through the air, and Dirthamen’s vallaslin washed away._ He had _freed_ her. The vallaslin had been slave markings tying her to another elvhen god’s will, and the realization made her want to claw the skin off her own face as if she could still feel the brand upon her flesh. Fen’Harel, trickster, traitor and yet out of kindness, he had wiped the brand of slavery free off of her…face? Was that memory real? Or a fantasy conjured up by him? Was he messing with her mind? Her dreams? Echo had begun to question her entire sense of self, and agonized over it for hours on end. 

Solas had hidden depths. He could be dangerous, she knew that from watching him in battle and around Haven. He moved with a subtle grace that belied the patience’s of a predator right before it moved in for the kill. An alpha forcing himself into the role of humble beta, but to what end? Even as suspicions and doubts fluttered through her mind, she couldn’t forget he also had been incredibly patient and kind. He healed people’s wounds, and would indulge children curious enough to ask him questions. Not to mention helped her with her magic, even though her attitude towards him was rigid. All of that was contrary to the stories that centuries had spun about him, and Echo was having a hard time figuring it all out inside her head. He did not seem like an insane madman that would cackle for hundred of years at the fall of the Elvhen Gods, but every story had a kernel of truth buried in it somewhere. Had history warped Fen’Harel’s story? Or was the wolf a better player upon the stage than Echo had ever encountered? 

And she knew good ones. 

“The Inquisition camp should be nearby,” Cassandra said, a not so subtle reminder of why they were here. 

“Yes, let’s go,” Echo said, softly. She resumed her trek down the path with the three of them dutifully following behind, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Being looked to make decisions was just not a thing Echo was comfortable with. When she made decisions before, she was unafraid because the only one truly affected by them was her. Now, every decision she would make could have far reaching consequences and that left her with mounting anxiety. 

Varric was probably the only one who knew her well enough to notice this, but he hadn’t called her out on it. She didn’t know if he believed in her, and that’s why he was silent. She was no Hawke. She couldn’t charge headfirst into things, and challenge the status quo. No matter how sucky the status quo was, and yet here she was an elf branded as the Herald of Andraste with a magical mark forced to do just that. 

Another ten minutes passed before the storyteller decided to break the silence. “So Mockingbird,” Varric commented. “Happy to be back at the Hinterlands?” 

Those words made Echo somber. “Not like this,” she tried to give a laugh, but failed miserably. Her mismatched gaze stared hollowly ahead, and her hands were clenched into tight fists at her side. “I would have preferred anything to this,” she whispered out, her eyes locked onto an overturned cart. A torn bag of a grain laid upon the ground, only disturbed by a few crows. Other bags had been torn and looted and not a soul was in sight. 

Lifting her hand to move the branch upward, Echo ducked underneath it and held it up out of the way for the others to duck through. A butterfly fluttered by, so out of place between for the forbidding air that lingered all around them. Echo narrowed her eyes against the sunlight, and let go lightly of the branch to use her hand to shield her eyes from light. 

“Inquisitions scouts up ahead,” Solas inclined his head to the right, and Echo turned her gaze that way to see a couple of the scouts standing guard around the parameter of a camp. It was about thirty yards away, and was almost completely hidden by vegetation, trees and bushes. It was good cover from enemies that may lurk about. 

“Finally,” Echo breathed out. 

As they approached the camp, someone came out to greet them. “Herald of Andraste…I’ve heard the stories,” said the scout that stepped forward. She was a dwarf with honey colored hair, and a gentle face covered in freckles. There were scars, though, too indicating that no matter how delicate the scout looked, she was a force to be reckoned with. “We all have. We all heard what you did at the Breach. It’s odd for a Dalish elf to care what happens to anyone else.” 

“I’m not Dalish,” Echo corrected, bluntly. 

“Oh, I just assumed. I suppose I shouldn’t have. You don’t have the tattoos,” the scout commented, an assessing gaze flickered across Echo’s face. 

Echo fought to not let her expression sour. She was sure that would find its way back to the spymaster, who had been determined to verify or deny the origins in which Varric gave them. “What can you tell us, Scout…?” She trailed off, with a half smile. 

“Inquisition Scout Harding at your service,” the scout replied, with a smile and a nod. “You’ll get no back talk from here.” 

“Harding, huh?” Varric smirked, amused. “Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?” 

Echo nearly choked on her tongue. He couldn’t be…He _wouldn’t_ make such a pun! _Oh, yes, he would,_ Echo bit back the laughter that threatened to burst free from her lips. 

“Can’t say that I have,” Scout Harding frowned. 

“You’d be Harding in…no, never mind,” Varric abandoned the joke, but it still made Echo giggle underneath her breath. Cassandra made a disgusted noise, and a slight smirk flickered across Solas’s lips. 

“Well, despite the circumstances I’m pleased to make your acquaintance Scout Harding,” Echo said, sincerely. “What can you tell me about what’s going on?” 

“It’s pretty dire,” Scout Harding said, slowly. Her lips dipped downward, and her brows furrowed. “We came to here to secure horses from Redcliffe’s old horse master. I grew up here, and everyone always said Dennet’s herds were the strongest, and the fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But with the mage and templar fighting getting worse, and we couldn’t get to Dennet. We don’t even know if he is still alive.” There was a brief look on pain and sorrow that crossed the Scout’s face. Most likely mourning what had become of her home before she cleared her throat, and straightened her spine. “Mother Giselle is down at the crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Witness reports say the war is spreading there, too. Corporal Vale and his forces are doing what they can, but they won’t be able to hold out for very long. You best get going, no time to lose.” 

Echo sighed, but nodded her head. “Very well. We shall do our best,” she promised, hoping that it was one she could deliver upon. 

They only lingered in the camp just long enough to replenish supplies. A group of wild mabari hounds had taken them by surprise, and they had exhausted a few potions. Cassandra wanted to be prepared, and Echo didn’t argue. If anyone knew the gravity of this war and what would be faced, it was the Seeker. Cassandra had prepared Echo with brutal training every day, and Echo now could honestly say she had an intimate relationship with the ground after how many times Cassandra beat her down into it. The Seeker didn’t hold back, that was a certain, and despite that many times Echo ended up kissing the ground, she could respect that. 

Despite all the training, despite all the preparation, Echo still felt anxiousness lingered over her head like a dark cloud, and her spine tensed as she waited for the downpour. Her palm pressed against the flat of the boulder, as they made their way down the steep path. 

“Watch your step,” Varric warned. 

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Echo said, with a shaky laugh. The path was better than a ladder at the very least, and soon the incline smoothed out as they came up the twin cliffs. They soon only scarcely a foot apart, as if cloaking the Crossroad up ahead from plain sight and an Inquisition solider lingered outside of them, obviously to keep guard. However, before they could even reach the guard to be briefed on the situation, a scout came flying up behind him and shouted, “The Crossroads are under attack!” 

The soldier blanched, and followed the scout towards the Crossroads. 

“Ah, fuck,” Echo blurted out. “I knew it was too nice and quiet.” 

“Better get used to it, Mockingbird,” Varric smirked. “Peace and quiet don’t last long, especially with war about.” 

“If you two are done? We must help the Inquisition soldiers,” Cassandra said, sternly. 

“Lead the way, oh, wise Seeker,” Varric did a half bow. 

Cassandra’s cheeks heated up, and she glared. However, instead running the dwarf through with her sword, she spun on her heel and rushed down the pathway. Echo sprinted after the Seeker, with Solas and Varric on her heels and when she came around the small cliffs that stood on either side of the path, she got her first glimpse at her beloved Crossroads. 

Her heart broke. 

Cries of fear from fleeing people rained of the crash of fireballs that came downward from the sky, and there was no gentleness about the magic that stirred her. No this magic was cast out of anger, pain, and madness. The mages weren’t defending themselves, nothing of the like. They were attacking innocent people, and Echo pulled her bow from her back. An arrow was notched and flew with all the anger she felt. Mages like this is why the Circles were made. They did no one any favors by doing this, especially their own. 

Fighting always happened like a blur for Echo. There was no moment to breathe, no moment’s pause, just constant movement and flow between her arrow and her next target. Lungs burned, and ribs ached, her heart pounded with all the force of a thunderstorm, and she kicked up the pace when an Inquisition soldier fell. 

Cassandra was a blur of motion up ahead, and she took two mages down in a matter of seconds. The Seeker took no pleasure in killing them, unlike some. She wasn’t killing them because they were mages, but because they harmed innocent. Few made such a distinction as that. 

Solas’s magic swept through the Crossroads like ice, and winter personified, like Jack Frost had come strutting in without so much as a hello or warning. Ice crystal shimmered in the air before a huge gust of deadly snow and ice slammed into three mages; knocking two backwards, and the other one was frozen solid. Dead before he drew his next breath. 

Varric shot down a mage who was at Echo’s back before he swiftly turned around towards the mages Solas had knocked down. He fired his crossbow, bolts rain downed from above, and killed one mage before they could get back up, while the other one screamed in pain. 

The Crossroads became eerily silent, save for the last mage who moaned in pain grasping her stomach where the crossbow bolt was buried deep. Arms were on fire from the exertion, she took a much needed gulp of air and walked towards the moaning mage. 

“Please…” the female mage begged, blood leaking out the corner of her mouth. “Please don’t leave me like this. End me, please.” 

“How dare you?” Cassandra was incensed. “How dare you beg for mercy when you attacked innocents? How dare you beg for mercy when you could spare none?” The Seeker demanded, her voice a near shout. 

The mage’s face twisted into something ugly. “You can play all you want! We know what your Inquisition is! Just another Chantry sent to put us back in chains!” 

“The Inquisition is not with the Chantry,” Solas denied. 

The mage gave a bitter scoff. “Coming from a mage puppet. You are no better than a collared bitch of some Ferelden dog lord,” she hissed out. 

“Then let us heal you, and prove it to you,” Echo offered, placing a hand on Solas’s arm. At the mage’s words, something dark and thunderous passed over his features. She would bet if he had not the audience, or the restraint he possessed then the mage would be naught, but a burn mark upon the ground. 

“You think I want your help? After you killed my friends?” Blood coated the mage’s chin, and her lips were pulled back in a snarl. 

“You and your friends were attacking refugees. Innocent people who did you no harm,” Echo’s eyes flashed, and her jaw tensed. She kept her eyes purposefully off the wound, and the blood for the sight of it made her stomach turn. She didn’t relish in death. “If you want people to treat you with respect, and have your freedom then perhaps you shouldn’t act like the monsters that everyone proclaims mages to be. You do not only harm the people you act, but you harm yourself, and your movement by acting nothing better than rabid animals.” 

“If you have any true mercy unlike the Chantry, you will end me,” the mage ignored her words, like a stubborn child who was determined to be right no matter what. “End me and allow me to be with my friends.” 

Echo opened her mouth, only to pause when she saw the mage’s eyes dart towards the path her group had come from, almost like she was _waiting_ on something. She felt a fissure of awareness streak up the back of her neck, and her scalp prickled with warning. “You’re not very good at stall tactics, are you?” She questioned, with a tight lipped smile. Her eyes stared unblinkingly down at the fallen mage, and the dying mage blanched. This mage didn’t want an end for her suffering. She wanted to know the people who had killed her were going to die as well. 

“Stalling?” Cassandra looked alarmed. 

“We are going to have company,” Echo stated, drawing an arrow back in her bow. 

“We have templars coming from the western path!” A scout shouted, their voice nearly a shriek. 

“Great,” Varric scoffed. “The Crossroad are about to become very crowded.” 

Crowded it indeed got. The battle started abruptly, with only shouts of panic to signal the beginning of it. Rushing from one spot to another, Echo did her best to aid the Inquisition soldiers and take down as many foes as she could. Her nostrils burned as she pulled in a rough breath, and she used her bow to block a mage who attempted to impale on their staff blade. She reached behind her to pull an arrow out of her quiver, only to find it empty. A flash of a panic crossed her features and she pulled her mana like Solas taught her to the palm of her hand. Electricity crackled along her digits and she flung at the mage to startle them. 

The mage stumbled back, and a crossbow bolt sliced right into his neck. He crumbled to the ground, and choked on his own blood. Echo twisted around to see Varric standing nearby, using Bianca to cover everyone he could. Varric tossed a quick nod before he chose his next target. 

Echo reluctantly tossed her bow to the ground, and pulled her daggers free from her belt. A glint of shining metal out of the corner of her eye made her whirl around to see a templar charging her. Before the templar could even touch her, Cassandra slammed her heavy metal shield into his side, driving him back into the templar archer. Both of men staggered, the archer gave a cry of pain when pinned underneath the heavy suit of armor. It would have been amusing if not for the fact they were in the midst of a real battle. 

Echo rushed forward towards the female archer, and used her momentum to kick the archer right in the face. She slid to a stop and dropped down right over the woman before she could recover, and buried her dagger right into her throat. Echo flinched back as blood sprayed across her face, and when her eyes pulled back open she stared into the other woman’s stricken expression. Her mouth moved up and down while blood oozed out of the wound with a wet, gurgled sound. 

Vomit rushed up Echo’s throat as she pulled her dagger free, and she stepped back a step only to see a sword coming at her. She moved backwards, and the blade that would have sliced down her torso, glanced across her upper thigh. An oath fell from her mouth as she stumbled backwards, and her back hit the boulder behind her. She raised her daggers, but before she could even plan an attack, something _ripped_ through her. A flash of light blinded her, and the blistering sensation rolled over leaving her suddenly drained and very cold. It was like all her mana had been stripped from her in one second. Her legs knocked together, her thoughts muddled, and the world spun around like nothing could stop it. 

A smite. She had never been subjected to one before, but she now knew why they were so feared. It felt like being tore apart from the inside out. Her breath scrapped against the inside of her lung, and she crossed her blade in from of her as the templar brought his blade down in an arc over his head. A pained grunted slipped out of her from the force of the attack. One knee slipped, and she barely had time to plant her right foot firmly against the ground to keep herself from slipping face first into the mud. 

“Mage scum,” the templar sneered. 

“Dick for brains,” Echo spat back, just as angrily. Her eyes darted of his armor, while she tried to remember what Cassandra had told her about Templar armor. There were weak spots, she just had to use them. 

The Templar pulled his blade back, and Echo lunged forward. She buried the end of blade, right into his armpit and shoved it downward towards his ribcage. The man bellowed, and his brought his gauntlet down on the back of her head. Echo flinched, and fell back a step. The Templar reached forward, his hand about to wrap around her neck when Cassandra appeared behind him, and grabbed him by the back of his armor. She flung him down to the ground with all her might, and plunged the tip of her sword right through his face. 

Echo’s stomach turned at the squelching noise, and her throat jerked as she gagged, silently. After the urge to puke passed, Echo’s face split into a shaky, relieved smile. “Thanks,” she breathed out. 

For the first time, Cassandra’s expression softened and a hint of a smile stretched upon her lips. It was gone swiftly when the Seeker’s dark eyes dipped and found the deep cut bleeding profusely from her leg. “I had thought Varric exaggerated about your tendency to get yourself hurt,” Cassandra stated, pulling her blade free. “I see he was not. Here.” 

Echo gratefully accepted the potion, and muttered a quick thanks before she popped the lid of it. Pressing the glass to her lips, she drank heavily. The potion rolled down her esophagus, and settled into her stomach with a satisfying warmth. It spread outward from there, soaking through her skin and sinew and blood. The pain in her leg eased, and she could feel the skin pulled together, which to be quite honest a strange sensation she’d never get used to. Storing the potion bottle in her knapsack, Echo planned to have it refilled later. Most people smashed the bottles or dropped them in the heat of battle, but waste not, want not in her opinion. Also less chance of getting stepping on glass in an opportune moment, if shoes weren’t well made, or like some elves did not wear shoes at all. 

She had not wanted to look, but she did. A sudden inhale rippled through, a kind of gasping shock, at the sight of all the bodies that now scattered along the road like broken dolls. She had known instinctively that it would look like this. A blood bath, but the sight of it still torn at something inside of her. Her shoulders sagged as all the adrenaline that had kept her going suddenly fled, leaving her cold and exhausted. Her unblinking gaze fell down to the dead templar that laid at her feet, and she felt like she had been plunged underneath ice water. Killing people was not something she would ever be fully comfortable with, no matter if the situation came down to her or them. She knew she had no choice in killing today, but she knew that those people she helped kill could have had family or children. It let a cold sensation in the pit of her stomach that she could shake, and Cassandra’s hand that fell upon her shoulder drew it back into reality. She blinked harshly and turned to see the other woman giving her a firm, but understanding look. 

“Sorry. I just…sorry,” Echo mumbled out. She drew in a deep breath, and pulled herself away from the body. She stumbled a couple of times, waving off Cassandra’s help and managed to make it to Mother Giselle’s side without falling flat on her face. _Mission half-way accomplished,_ Echo thought, her stomach flopping painfully. Behind her, Inquisition started to clear up the carnage and restore a sense of order to the Crossroads. 

Mother Giselle was an older woman, with age lines upon her cameral colored skin. Her rich brown eyes were gentle, and she was knelt beside a wounded warrior. “There are mages here that can heal you,” her Orleasian accent thick. “Lie still.” 

“Don’t let them touch me mother. Their magic—” The soldier choked. 

“Has been turned to noble purpose. Their magic is surely no more evil than your blade,” Mother Giselle reassured the young man, with a kind pat of his arm. 

“But,” the soldier shuddered. 

“Hush, dear boy,” Mother Giselle whispered. “Allow them to ease your suffering.” 

Mother Giselle pulled back, and a female mage stepped forward to heal the soldier. Echo swallowed the knot in throat, and took a couple of more steps. “Mother Giselle?” She called, her voice strained. 

“That I am.” Mother Giselle observed her for a long second, and her eyes flickered down her glowing hand that couldn’t be concealed. “And you must be the one they are calling Herald of Andraste.” 

“Not through any choice of mine,” Echo snorted, tiredly. 

Mother Giselle gave a light smile. “We never have much say in our fate, I’m sad to say,” she said, her tone suspiciously light. 

“You agree with them?” Echo asked, her eyebrows climbed upward. 

“I do not know the intentions of the Maker when it comes to any of us, but I did not ask you to come to debate with me,” Mother Giselle said, gesturing for them to walk further along the path and away from prying eyes. 

“No,” Echo followed, after a moment’s indecision. “Leliana said that you could help us when it comes to the dissents that Chantry holds towards the Inquisition. What help can you provide?” 

“I know the Chantry’s denouncement, and I know those who are behind it. I won’t lie to you, some of them are grandstanding in hopes of increasing their chances of becoming the new Divine,” confided Mother Giselle, with her hands clasped in front of her. “Some are simply terrified. So many lives senselessly taken from us, the Divine’s amongst them. Not to mention the Breach in the sky, and the uncertainty surrounding what the Inquisition is or what it intends to do, they are lashing out.” 

Her mismatched eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and her chin lifted. “And you don’t stand with the rest of the Chantry?” Echo asked, cautiously. 

“With no Divine, we are each left to our own conscious, and my conscious tells me that your Inquisition is worth aiding,” Mother Giselle stated, as if that settled the matter entirely. “Go to the Grand Clerics in Val Royeaux. Meet with them, speak with them, and convince the remaining clerics that you are no demon to be feared. They have only heard frightful tales. Give them something else to believe.” 

“Would such an appeal actually work?” Echo had to ask, because she was not certain it would. The Chantry seemed resolute in their stance, and the time to sit down to talk had already passed, or so she believed. It seemed rather naïve to believe that a simple meeting would turn their Chantry’s favor towards them. Not that Echo particularly wanted it, but it seemed the Inquisition did. Or at least, needed the back off enough to work freely. 

“If I thought you were incapable, I wouldn’t have suggested it.” 

Echo almost scoffed, but reigned it in. This woman didn’t know a single thing about her if she thought that she was capable of playing the part of the mediator with the Chantry. But Mother Giselle was trying to help, and Echo respected that. “Will they even listen?” She asked, quietly. 

“Let me put it this way. You do not have to convince all of them. Just enough to make some of them doubt,” Mother Giselle said, with a sly sort of smile. “Their power is in their unified voice. Take that from them, and you will receive the time you need.” 

Echo nodded, absentmindedly. The lady ambassador seemed convinced that as long as the Chantry stood united, they would be a threat. Echo supposed they could find some way to spread doubt, but she was too tired to think of one right now. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It is good of you to do this.” 

Mother Giselle smiled. “I don’t know if you have been touched by fate, or sent to help, but I hope. Hope is what we need now,” the Chantry mother stated, decisively. “The people will listen to your rallying call like they listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us, or destroy us.” 

Echo blanched, slightly, and hoped silently to herself that it was not the latter. 

“I will go to Haven, and give Sister Leliana the names of those that will be amenable to a gathering,” Mother Giselle promised, humbly. “It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.” 

“That’s all that can asked from anybody,” Echo said, lightly. 

“Very true,” Mother Giselle inclined her head. “Please. Go rest. The battle has taken a lot from you as it has many others, but we are safe for now.” 

It was the ‘for now’ part that Echo worried. 

* * *

Evening had come swiftly as the Inquisition soldiers set alit the pyres, burning the dead, and Echo sat before the campfire with her elbow placed on her knee, and her chin resting upon her clenched hand. She imagined she must look a quite deal like the statue, The Thinker. Indeed, she felt quite a bit like him, too. She had been left to her thoughts for quite some time as Cassandra went to speak to Corporal Vale about the Hinterlands’ dire situation, and Solas had been aiding healing the wounded. She had no seen either of them for a great deal of time, but her mind was filled with too much to start to worry just yet. 

Appealing to the Grand Clerics, she supposed had merit, if one was diplomatic enough to toe the very thin line. Echo wasn’t sure she could toe that line. She end up slipping, and on the wrong side, she is pretty sure. But would the Chantry even meet with them? Right now, the Inquisition was fledging. The Chantry dismissed it as they dismissed a bug beneath their shoe, so that meant the Inquisition needed to prove they were not going to merely wither away into the night. They needed to alarm the Chantry enough that they couldn’t be ignored, yet not in a way that could be construed as threatening. No, threats would get them nowhere. 

“You’re looking a like peak there, Mockingbird,” Varric said, as he plopped down on the spot beside her. He nudged her side with elbow ever so slightly. He shoved a bottle of mead into her palm, and then took a long drink of his own. “Knowing there is a war happening, and being in the middle of it are two very different things, huh?” 

“Very different things,” Echo said, uncorking the mead. She took a big drink, and savored the burn that slid down her throat and put a flush in her cheeks. It was better than the numbness that spread through her, and her shoulders slumped forward with a sigh. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of thing. I can finish a battle. I can save a life if I need to, but in the aftermath, I feel guilt. I feel sad that I had to do what I did. How am I supposed to fight a war when I can’t stop feeling those things?” Her voice faltered, and the numb expression cracked, revealing the uncertainty that plagued her. 

“You want my advice, Mockingbird? Don’t be worried because you feel too much,” Varric told her, completely seriously. “Be worried when you don’t feel anything at all. The pain, the sadness, it reminds you that you are still you. Without it…” He shook his head, staring down the flames with a somber expression. “Without it, you end up losing who yourself.” 

“You’re very sage-like when you want to be, Varric,” she mustered up a laugh, but didn’t really feel it. Over fifty Inquisition soldiers were stationed here, all with a seemingly common purpose. To stop the chaos, and yet she couldn’t help but wonder what drew them to the Inquisition. Did they want the world to change? To bring peace? Looking for glory? Echo didn’t think there was any glory to be found in war, at all. What was so glorious about lands soaked in blood, and dead beyond counting? Nothing. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” Varric joked. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, Echo tugging on her bottom lip thoughtfully as the mead warmed her limbs, and weeded out some of the tension she could not let go of. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep,” Echo whispered the words, almost compulsively. Her soul felt bare, and wounded, like she was inside a dark, dark tunnel and the light was nowhere in sight. That’s what this journey would be like. Stumbling through the dark, grasping for answers that she was not sure she wanted to find, but needed to nonetheless. 

“What’s that from?” Varric arched a brow. 

“It’s from a poem my mother read to me when I was a child. It was her favorite,” she said, her voice distant. “I don’t know why I recall it now, but perhaps, it is because I feel that it is fitting is all.” 

“It sounds like it,” Varric agreed. The dwarf . “You’re not alright, Mockingbird. Something is eating at you. I can see it. Cassandra sees it. Chuckles sees it. Whatever it is, just remember that you aren’t in all this alone. You have a lot of people who are willing to listen, if you need them to.” 

Echo smiled. “I know that, Varric,” she told him, lightly. “But I’m not quite ready to talk about all the thoughts in my head just yet. I can’t seem to get them all untangled, and manageable for myself to understand them let alone talk to someone else about them.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he knew that it wasn’t just her thoughts that plagued. But she would not tell him about Solas, about who she believed the apostate to be. The knowledge was dangerous, and her life was the only one she was willing to risk on it. “Well, when you are ready, you know where to find me,” Varric said, with a slight smirk. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to go teach some of the soldiers how to play Wicked Grace, and how to lose a lot of coin in the blink of an eye.” 

A laugh fell from her lips, and she shook her head side to side. “You do that,” she said, mirth twinkling in her eyes. “And if you land in hot water, I’ll send Cassandra to save you.” 

Varric dramatically put a hand to his heart, and took a step back like she had shot him in the chest. “Mockingbird, who knew you could be so cruel,” he stated, before he turned on his heel and walked towards the soldiers’ tents. 

Echo sighed, lightly. She looked around the camp, alone and perhaps, feeling a bit too idle for her liking. Grabbing her knapsack, she began to pick out the herbs she had collected on their way down from Haven to the Hinterlands. Making use of an empty pot, she began to brew a health. The motion of stirring in the ingredients, and quiet, soothed the frayed edges of her soul granting her much needed solace. Unfortunately, it was not meant to last for when her potion was nearly finished, she spotted Solas entering the camp area. She bit her lower lip, and dropped her gaze. “Hello,” she greeted, because it would be rude to say nothing at all. 

“Good evening,” Solas returned the greeting, politely. He had seen great and terrible things in his time, and this was not nearly the worst trial he had faced, but the suffering of the refugees tugged at his brittle heart. He healed and offered comfort where he could, but it was not nearly enough to atone for his sins, his past ones and the ones he would commit. His eyes swept over Echo’s face, and the way her body had tensed at his approach, causing a stab of disquiet to his gut. 

“I have question, if you will allow it,” Solas said, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes watched Echo’s diligent work at brewing the potion. Her skin seemed to absorb the light of the fire, and glow ever so slightly. Sweat dripped down her nose, and her brows furrowed before her eyes flickered up to look at him for a split second. 

“Sure,” Echo nodded, switching the ladle into her left palm when her right arm had grown too tired and heavy. “What is it?” She brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, and then added in the dried elf root into the pot. 

“Have I done something that has offended you?” Solas questioned, tonelessly. He had noticed a shift in her mannerisms around him. The way her eyes were guarded, and stared at him with all too knowing look that set his teeth on edge. He knew not what had inspired this sudden change from a willing and trusting pupil to a walled up and wary student. He had fought the urge to enter her dreams, or at least, watch from afar to learn more about what caused this. 

Echo halted in stirring, and lifted her head. Her eyes were a little too wide, and an automatic denial formed upon her lips. One that Solas waved away with an abrupt motion of his hand. “Your eyes are no longer soft,” Solas commented, his lips pinched at the ends. 

“Excuse me?” Echo asked, bewildered. What did her eyes have to do anything? She couldn’t follow his leap from wondering if he had offended her to her eyes being not “soft”, whatever that meant. 

“Forgive me. I simply meant that was your eyes were open and without judgments. Soft in a sense. Now they are hardened,” Solas explained, a wryness to his tone, “and filled with shadows hiding judgments that I cannot understand. I have to wonder what has caused it.” 

“It is nothing you have done, Solas,” Echo said, honestly. It wasn’t what he had done. This memory—if it was indeed true and that opened a whole lot of painful questions that she could not deal with right now—was the cause of it, and the more she thought about it, the more she was certain he had nothing to do with it. If he had, he would be subtle pressing her to confide in him about it. He had not. In fact, with her lukewarm attitude towards him, Solas had kept his distance from her. It really wasn’t his fault that this memory shifted her view on him, and she couldn’t blame him for keeping his identity a secret. If she were the Dread Wolf, she wouldn’t go around advertising it, either. 

But there was this irrational part of her that felt betrayed. Hurt, even. She had barely known the elf, but there was something about him that she felt kinship with. Something that made her want to trust him, and now knowing what she knew, she wasn’t sure what to make of him. Could he be trusted? Or better yet, _should_ he be trusted? She met his gaze, and offered him a small, fleeting smile. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, and I fear I have had little time for anything else.” 

“Ah. I see.” His tone neutral. Not believing, not trusting as much as her. It gave Echo a measure of comfort to know that he didn’t know what to make of her, either. 

“I also have to be more caution with my trust,” Echo added, a half truth hidden within her words. “I can’t simple give it away. It has to be earned, just like I have to earn everyone else’s.” 

“And yet you hold me to a different level of scrutiny than you do them,” Solas said, with a light tilt of his head. 

Trepidation coiled tight in her gut. It was as if a part of Solas could sense she knew something she shouldn’t, and was now subtly sniffing around for the answer. She lifted the pot off of the campfire and set it down on the ground to cool before she put it in the vials. “That’s very true,” Echo nodded, because if she denied he would know it was a lie. “But I can usually figure out what makes a person dangerous, or why they do what they do. The Seeker wants to fix the world. Varric feels like he has to see this through because of the red lyrium up on the mountain. Leliana wants justice for the Divine, while ensuring the vision she had did not die on that mountain with her. Cullen wants to do better, to be a better man than he feels like has been all the while trying to out run whatever demons nip at his heel. Josephine wants to help Leliana, and help secure the future of the Inquisition because it helps secure hers. I know that’s not all their motivations,” she said, after she paused to take a breath. “But it’s the foundation of them.” 

Solas’s brow ticked upward. “And you don’t know my motivations,” he answered, slowly. “This puzzles you, and leaves you wary of me.” 

“Yes…” Echo said, slowly. It was a part of her reasons, not all of them. However, she wasn’t going to say that to his face. Perhaps, if he believed that this was the core reason that she did trust him, then he would be content to leave well enough alone. There was a pinch in her gut that told her that her hope was wasted on that. “You say you came here to help, but what do you gain from it?” 

That was a half truth. Solas could appreciate the way she danced around the full truth, answering his question without truly answering it. Yet it also left him equally frustrated. She was like an ocean, shallow and much too deep. A contradiction in and of itself. Solas could see how she wore her heart on her sleeve when it came to the injured and broken. But the moment one went to see that heart, it disappeared and was hidden away so no one could find it. 

“Other than seeing that the world is not left in ruin?” Solas commented, almost idle. “I hope those in power remember who was here, and who was not. The worst thing for a person to do when faced with adversity is not fail, but to do nothing at all.” 

“That’s all?” Echo asked. 

A trace of a smile curved on Solas’s lips. “It is the foundation of it, yes,” he told her, with a bit of amusement. “I believe your potion has cooled enough to fill up vials, da’len.” 

Echo checked, and saw that he was right. “Quite so,” she inclined her head, slightly. “I apologize for departing the conversation, Solas…” 

“Think nothing of it,” Solas said, not offended. He knew he had to patient, and keeping her here to speak further would only force her to clam up. Letting her run would give her a sense of ease, but he would be waiting, and bidding his time. 

Echo watched the elf walk again, and waited for the sense of relief to come to her. It didn’t. 

* * *

_Echo’s dreams weren't even relatively normal anymore. She had given up such hopes, and was resigned to whatever screwy nightmare the Fade had in store for when she found herself in a clearing. Green trees swayed in the breeze, bring the hint of spring along with them, and she frowned, deeply. Slowly, she turned around trying to spot the flaw in this beautiful domain, so she could dispel it and move towards a fitful sleep._

_She found it alright. Sitting crisscross in the middle of the clearing with a bloody sword in her lap, looking as if she had been through the battle of a lifetime, was none other than her best friend, Ashlinn Cousland. Quirking up an eyebrow, Echo cautiously approached, and wondered what spirit (or demon) was playing at here._

_Ashlinn had a thousand yard stare, and a coldness on her face that was most unlike her friend. “If you are a spirit, I appreciate your intentions, but find another soul to help you with your purpose. There is no help you can grant me,” Ashlinn spoke, her voice harsh and brusque, with a slightly raspy quality to it as if she had been screaming recently. “If you are a demon, go fuck yourself. I’m not buying what you are selling. Go find some idiot who will believe you.”_

_Echo reeled back, startled, and then offended. “Look, I don’t what you are playing at, but the only demon here is you,” Echo snapped, arms folded on her chest. “So why don’t you just get out my dream now, before things get ugly?”_

_A darkness flared in Ashlinn’s gaze, and it snapped up to Echo’s face with a blistering intensity. “I know what is real. I know that I am real, and if you think for one second that you can make me slip, you’re sorely mistaken,” she said, through gritted teeth. She looked haggard, and beaten down with blood and dirt smeared across her face. Her back was hunched like a wounded animal that would snap if attacked. “Better demons have tried, and failed. Leave now, while I have an ounce of patience.”_

_Echo snorted, harshly. “You are real, are you? You can’t even pretend to be the real Ashlinn. You are pale imitation with your cold and bitter attitude,” she said, fiercely. “My friend was the most generous and kind person I have ever known. She was not cold, or harsh without reason. She was a good person, and you tainting my memory of her frankly pisses me the hell off!” Her anger was not just at this dream. It had been building up from her frustration over a great many things, but this demon masquerading as her friend was the straw that broke the camels back._

_There was a great silence, and Ashlinn blinked hard. Her eyes scrutinized Echo’s face for what seemed like forever, and slowly, the cold mask cracked revealing a painful vulnerability. Blue eyes filled with watery tears, and Ashlinn looked at Echo as if she had stomped on her heart. “Oh, my God, Echo,” Ashlinn’s voice broke, and the sword was dropped to the Fade floor out of her shaking hands. “Echo? It’s really you?”_

_Something clenched in Echo’s gut, and her heart skipped a beat. Her mouth opened to spew a few more ugly words at the Ashlinn look-alike when a coldness settled into her bones, and in that moment, she just knew. She didn’t know what made it so clear to her all the sudden. It could have been the fearful desperation in Ashlinn’s eyes, or the way she was trying not to breakdown right at Echo’s feet, but Echo just suddenly knew without a doubt that this wasn’t some demon. It wasn’t some spirit playing a part._

_It was_ Ashlinn. 

_“Ash?” Echo croaked out._

And Echo was shaken awake by Cassandra, who said it was time to head off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This chapter went by really fast, and I used to set up a lot of stuff that will unfold in this story. Solas and Echo have sort of hit a roadblock, where they are both wary of each other and how much the other knows. Over time, they will both have to put these feelings aside to work together.


	2. Stranger Than Fiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if you feel I rush through any of the Hinterlands. The Hinterlands was not my favorite part of DAI, and not because I didn’t enjoy playing. The first time I got DAI, I didn’t upload my Dragon Age Keep right, and did EVERYTHING in the Hinterlands in one sitting. 10 hours I played, after making my game at my sister’s because she has wifi whereas my house does not because they will not bring it out this far. The house three house to the left have it, and the house two doors to the right has it, but my house is smack in a dead zone. So 10 hours, I go talk to Leliana and the Hero of Ferelden who was supposed to be alive is dead because it’s the generic history, and without wifi I can’t fix it, and wasted 10 hours of my life. Every time I play now, the Hinterlands is always the hardest part to manage to get through for me because I just remember the sense of frustration. And I am playing through the Hinterlands to get as accurate as I can with names and events, so again I apologize if certain parts feel glossed over. I will try not to do that so much, but I hate the Hinterlands, so we’ll see how that goes.
> 
> Chapter Inspired by the songs:  
> “Heaven Forsaken” by Antonio Cupo and the Violet Chronicles  
> “On my Sleeve” by Creed
> 
> I want to thank, dingo_dog, chaino425, millie435,for all the bookmarks!
> 
> I want to thank Crymsm for the review!
> 
> I want to thank cheshiire, Tandorri_Frost, Hexpixie, chain0425, KittyDragoness, WickedWitchoftheWilds, Elina, Hotpotato, UsakoAuditore, seraphem31, iner, maireh, and Silenceatemycat and 8 guests for all the kudos!

Chapter Two

“Stranger Than Fiction”

* * *

The Crossroads, Ferelden 

9:41 Dragon, Wintermarch

The Crossroads basked in the early morning light for there was not a cold in the sky, and around it grew birch and juniper trees just off the beaten pathway. It was so strange to not see caravans or carriages ride through for it was usually a bustling hub of activity. Now, it was just a sanctuary for refugees forced to find some kind of safety from the Mage-Templar War. Echo sat on a log in front of a campfire, eating the merger portions of gruel that could be afforded, and she would not complain. It was better than nothing, even if it tasted a bit like ash upon her tongue. Though she doubted anything would have tasted good to her at this moment, her thoughts endless consumed by her dream. Her mind replayed the instant when Ashlinn looked at her—desperate, hopeful, scared, relieved—and it left Echo with a tight knot of anxiety in the center of her chest. 

_You can’t trust the Fade,_ she told herself, but it was not so easily brushed aside. Her gaze snapped upward when a shadow fell over her, and she saw Cassandra standing beside her. The other woman wished to move out as soon as possible, and she didn’t blame her. These people needed help, and time wasn’t exactly a luxury that could be spared. “I want to see what we can do for the refugees,” Echo stated, finishing the last bit of gruel. She set her spoon down in the bowl, and rose to her feet. “What did Corporal Vale tell you of the situation?” 

“That the fighting is worse on the King’s road, so we should take care to be properly prepared before we head that way,” Cassandra informed, her tone rather clinically. Her professional façade kept the Seeker on task, and away from the emotions—anger, pain, sadness—that nipped at her heels. “He also made mention that the refugees are in desperate need of a proper healer. There are a couple of mages here that help with wounds, but magic can only do so much. He mentioned that there is a healer at Redcliffe, but the scouts say that the gate has been shut tight since the explosion at the conclave.” 

“Redcliffe is where the King sent the mages, right? As a place of sanctuary?” Echo asked, with a frown. She seldom dabbled in politics so she had no reason to know the names of nobility, but she was painfully sure that Josephine would beat them into her head. All she knew about Thedas in relation to the countries were: Rivian was know for it’s seers and mysterious magics. Ferelden with it’s chivalry and sense of honor; also big dog people. When she thought of Orlais, the Great Game came to mind and how Varric told her that it was a place where smiles and words could be just as deadly as any blade. The name Tevinter immediately sprung images of blood mages and demons. Scheron, the land inhabited by the quanari, was not greatly spoken about, but what she had gathered the lands was greatly like Egypt with pyramids and sand. 

Cassandra nodded. “Yes, King Fergus and Queen Anora allowed the mages to take refuge there when the war broke out. It is no surprise that they have the gates closed. The explosion at the Conclave has fanned the flames of war, and both mages and templars seem consumed by madness. I only hope the leaders may be reasoned with.” 

“The templars and mages in the valley? I don’t know if they will see reason, especially given how they attacked the Crossroads with little regard to who was in their paths. The mages in Redcliffe? They might still be reasoned with. Closing the gates says to me that they don’t want conflict, and with everyone turning blame on each other, I’m sure the templars have already tried to storm it, without success. From what little I’ve read about Redcliffe, it’s defenses are nothing to be scoffed at,” Echo commented, handing her bowl to a scout who had been sent to gather the dishes up. She politely thanked them before she turned to look at Cassandra with a slight frown on her lips. “They might let the Inquisition in, but somehow I doubt it. Too many still see us as the Chantry to be comfortable with us, especially the mages.” 

“And the templars see us as heretics. Their leader is as hidden from us as Grand Enchanter Fiona is out of our reach, and while I have hope that the templars will aid us, there has been no word of them beyond the attacks here,” Cassandra’s lips were pursed. Her eyes were narrowed in mute frustration as she stared out at the Crossroads, her shoulders drawn tight as if she carried a heavy burden. “It is like standing on the edge of a double edge sword. Either way we fall, we will end up cut.” 

“Well, so as long as it isn’t fatal,” Echo said, with a half smile. 

Cassandra’s countenance didn’t change much, but there a slight softening that only someone would catch if they paid close enough attention. “We can only hope that we are so fortunate,” Cassandra sighed, adjusting the strap on her armor that kept her shield upon her back. “Though if we do not find a way to make the Chantry see reason, it might not be a blade that will fell us. We do not have the influence nor the power to call a meeting with the heads of the Chantry.” 

“Then we need to get their attention. Right now, they can brush us off as heretics, but if we give them reason to be worried? They might meet with us, even if it is only to denounce us to our faces,” Echo said, running her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “Mother Giselle said they only had frightening tales of us, and that we need to give them something else to hear. We want to help the refugees, right? We do that, and put a stop to the fighting on the King’s Road seems like the best thing to do. Rumors will spread of the Inquisition’s deeds, and it’ll prove that they can’t just ignore us and pray we will go away. That we are a force here to stay.” 

“And you say you know nothing about politics,” Varric strode up to them with a smirk on his face. “With that attitude, Mockingbird, someone might mistake you for Orleasian.” 

Echo gasped at him, with mock outrage. “Take that back!” 

Cassandra groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If you two are quite finished, I believe I know where we must start. While we might not be able to secure a healer as of yet, Corporal Vale mentioned two of his men that we should speak to. They had some concerns, and I believe it would be prudent to speak with them as soon as possible.” 

“We will head off as soon as Solas is here,” Echo nodded. Part of her was tempted to leave the apostate behind, but then that would demand an explanation. 

They finished packing their gear, and supplies, and waited about ten minutes before the apostate finally showed. “I apologize for my tardiness,” Solas said, with a slight incline of his head. “I had been helping with the injured the best I could, as well as replenishing certain supplies. I was on my way here when I was called to a hut by rather frantic elf. His wife apparently was having trouble breathing. I did manage to help, but I fear the extent of her pains is beyond me. Their son usually crafts a potion to help ease this illness, but he has run off to join a cult in the hills.” 

“Cult? Did you just say cult?” Echo’s eyes bugled. The word _cult_ did not bring any good feelings, or thoughts to mind. 

“Yeah, I heard some whispers about that. Apparently, a group of people have holed themselves in some kind of fortress south of here who have decided that the Breach is a sign of the Maker, and not the work of magic,” Varric snorted, vaguely amused. “They’ve been worshipping a rift if I heard correctly.” 

“Surely you jest,” Cassandra gave him a flat look. 

“It would not surprise me if some people have turned to worshiping the Breach, if only in hopes of appeasing it,” Solas said, a far off look in his eyes for a split second before he came back to himself. “The elf has requested that we retrieve the potion from his son, if we head that way.” 

“We cannot do everything that everyone asks of us, Solas,” Cassandra pointed out, not unkindly. 

Echo gave a light laugh. “Why not? Let’s face it,” she said, before the Seeker could add further protest, “we were going to have to investigate this cult at the very least, anyhow. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.” 

Cassandra sighed. “I suppose you are right.” 

They spoke to the men, the refugee hunter Blaylock and Recruit Whittle, about the conditions the refugee faced. With the templar mage fighting, it had been nigh impossible for the hunters to retrieve a sufficient amount of food for everyone, and Blaylock feared that some would starve. Recruit Whittle expressed concern over the cold, for while the Hinterlands were green and flourished, but the nights could be harsh with the frigid mountain air would spill downward at a moment’s notice, turning the pleasant warm days into dreadfully cold ones. Most refugees didn’t have time to prepare when fleeing from their homes, and most didn’t have blankets or thick clothing to protect them. The tents were thin, and they needed more than its meager protection. There was still the month, _Guardian_ which was usually the coldest, and then it would not be just wind that came down from the mountains. Snow would come swiftly, and suddenly, stealing life from the trees and plants like a plague. It would linger for the entire month, and into the following if temperatures dropped enough. If the refugees were still here, and without supplies, a great deal could die from exposure. 

Recruit Whittle mentioned rumors of caches that the mages had spread through the Hinterlands, in case, they could not hold up here any longer. “If you could just mark them on the map, I’ll send my men out to collect them,” he said, dark bruises underneath his eyes born out of worry. “Even just one would be better than nothing.” 

“We’ll keep an eye out for them,” Echo promised, giving a slight bow. It was disheartening to see the number of people, and how many were suffering. Where was the Crown in this? Could they not send soldiers? What of the Chantry? Would they not offer shelter to anyone? It was maddening, and she had to choke back the burst of anger at the injustice of it all. She kept her eyes steadily in front of her, and walked briskly. “Do you know how animals we will have to kill to feed all those refugees at the Crossroads?” Echo wondered, as they trekked through the Crossroads, and towards the southern path. 

“A great more than we can carry on our shoulders,” Cassandra said, estimating it all in her head, carefully and methodically. “If you intend on hunting for the refugees, we will need to find some means of hauling and transporting what you kill.” 

“We could ask someone here if they have a wagon and mule to spare,” Varric reasoned, with his head cocked to the side. “But they didn’t seem like they had a lot of _anything_ to spare.” 

“We’ll think of something,” Echo commented, her fingers fretfully pulling at her vambrace. Her brows were pinched as they headed up the long path, and her eyes darted as if she half expected enemies to swoop down upon them. “Varric is right. These people have little to spare, but several people fled there homes, yes? There might be supplies such a wagon, or cart left behind that we can salvage for use.” 

“Isn’t that technically stealing?” Varric pointed out amused. 

“Possibly. It’s bit of a blurry line,” Echo stated, with a slight shrug. She had done it before. When she first came across the Waking Sea, Echo had salvaged in order to survive. She had used most of her gold to buy passage, and odd jobs that popped up on the Chantry’s board were few and far between. So she had hunted, discreetly, for technically she was poaching on someone else’s lands, and when she came across abandoned caravans or buildings, she would look what could be salvaged. It might not have been glamorous, but it had helped her survive before she settled into transporting goods for a living, and had earned her a few friends and contacts, in case she ever needed to call upon them. 

“Bring them enough food to last, and somehow I do not think anyone will complain,” Solas stated, with a slight smile. 

“Let’s hope you are right,” Echo replied, in a soft whisper. 

* * *

“Well, look, what we got here. What’s a pretty little mage doing all out here by her lonesome?” 

Catherine Trevelyan was not having a good day. 

In fact, she had forgotten what good days were all together. Her life these last few months had been a blur of running, fighting, and trying to survive in a world that seemed out to get simple mages like herself. She had been thrilled when the Circles disbanded, because she thought it would mean a transition where something better would take its place. A college where mages after they passed certain requirements would be free to live how they wanted, or were at least, able to visit families on holidays or summers like the schooling her eldest brother used to talk about before she had been taken away. Instead, the Templars angered over the disbandment had turned away from the Chantry, and took mage hunting to a new extreme she had not thought possible.

She knew maleficarum had to be stopped, and mages who preyed upon innocents had to be put down like any criminal who did such things, but this was beyond that. The Templars did not care who they struck down. They attacked mages on sight, even slaughtering innocent who had nothing to do with the magic in the slightest. Her fellow mages were scarcely any better, Catherine thought mournfully. It was like power had all gone to their heads, and she was sickened by it and waited no part of it. They just proved the masses fears that mages couldn’t be trusted with such freedoms. It’s why Catherine had snuck out of the Witchwoods, and had dared to make her way through the Hinterlands on her own. She wanted to prove to the world not all mages were to be feared, and also build havens—true havens, nothing like the Circle—for mages to learn, freely. Her hope was to go home to Ostwick, and plead her case with her eldest brother, Maxwell. 

Sadly, her plan hit a bit of a snag. Alright, that was a lie. It was quite a big snag. Catherine was not the most graceful when it came to outdoors. Living over half of her life inside cold stone walls, who could blame her for being so inept at the wilderness? Oh, she could certainly blame herself for not watching her footing and the fact that she hadn’t changed out of her mage robes. Who knew that one foot step, and the lack of solid ground beneath her would send her down a hill straight into three templars? She certainly hadn’t, but with the way life had been going downhill, pun fully intended, she have known. 

“Oh, oh, Maker,” Catherine whispered, shoving herself to her feet. Her eyes widen with fear, and her heart was inside of her throat. The sound of swords being drawn, the slid of metal caused her to shake. She wasn’t a fighter. She was a healer, and there was no way she could face three templars on her own. “Wait. Just wait, please. Don’t hurt me. I’m not a maleficar.” 

“Me doth think she protest too much,” one of them sneered, green eyes the only visible feature from the visor of his metal helmet. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t kill this one right away,” a second spoke up, he tongue swiped over his lips. The skin above his right eye once had been was viciously scarred, making him look all that imposing. The sun glinted off the sword held in his grasp. “With a body like that, we could have some fun playing with her first.” 

“No! No!” Catherine could feel her magic rise up inside of her, but before she could pull it to lash out, a smite crashed over her head. She collapsed back against the ground, gasping for breath. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and panic slashed through her soul. In her time in the Circle, she had never encountered such horribleness. Ostwick did not shirk it’s duties to the mages and their protection, but she had heard stories. Things passed through the grapevine of things that happened in Ferelden and Kirkwall, and bile rushed up her throat. _No, please, Maker don’t let that happen to me!_

“Look at those lips,” a hand was twisted painfully into her curly hair, and she was jerked up off the ground. Her staff was pulled off her back, and throw to the wayside, far out of reach. “They awfully pretty, and they’d be even better attached to my—” 

It happened in a blur for Catherine. There was a sharp whistle, followed by the squelching noise of flesh being puncture, and then something warm and wet splattered onto her face. Catherine’s mouth trembled, and she stared at the arrow now lodged into the Templar’s skull, just above his left ear. Without a helmet to guard him, the arrow struck deep, and his eye bulged outward as his body fought to process the sudden turn of events. The hand in her hair loosened, the templar’s eye rolled into the back of his head, and dropped to the ground beside her. 

Catherine didn’t know whether to weep in relief or scream in shock. 

The other two templars stared there dumbly, just as stunned as she was, and that’s when a blur of black and silver armor that bashed one templar into the ground with a shield. A bald elf mage soon joined the fray by a dwarf with a crossbow, and Catherine couldn’t do anything, but sit back and watch. 

* * *

There were few things in this world that inspired Echo’s hatred. 

She did not hate needlessly, and in fact, she strove not to hate because she didn’t want to be controlled by such a dark emotion. Yet there were times when her good nature slipped up, few and far between, but there were those moments. It happened without warning. Echo led the group which already had her nerves fluttering around her stomach like angry bees when they had reached the foot of the hill only to hear a shout. “No! No!” 

Her heart kicked against her ribs, taken aback from sudden burst of noise because it had been so silent apart from birds chirping and the occasional fennec crossing their path. Alarm seared up her neck and then jammed into a white hot knot at the base of her skull, her eyes darted towards Cassandra and the others as if to make sure they had heard it, too. 

“That didn’t sound good,” Varric said, grimly. 

“This way,” Echo ordered. She took off running, without glancing to see if they were following, and pulled her bow from where it was slung on her back. The grass crunched softly and silently beneath her footfalls, and as she came around a large boulder, she found herself staring at a grotto. Immediately her eyes were drawn to the shiny Templar armor; the noon sun came down right into hollow, shining off the three of them like a beacon, and then Echo’s eyes fell upon the young mage that was back on the ground. Her chest rose with shaky breaths, and Echo could see the fear etched onto the mage’s face from even this far away. _Your temper is going to get you in trouble,_ her mother would often say, and it was true. She could be hot-headed, but it could not be helped. Not in a situation like this. 

“They awfully pretty, and they’d be even better attached to my—” 

An arrow was fired before Echo even realized she had grabbed one, and she felt her lips curled upward, her eyes blazed with rage. Her heartbeat was a loud drum that cracked against her eardrum, and an invisible hand ensnared her throat in a grip so tight that she could not breathe. A blur of armor passed her, and she watched Cassandra pummel one Templar into the ground as the spell winter’s grasp wrapped around the other. The feel of Solas’s magic tingled against her back, and the mechanical click of Bianca echoed against the stone, and Echo drew another arrow back. 

Her fingers quivered just a hair—just for a second—before she steadied them, and released the arrow into the frozen Templar. It was an easy target, she knew, but the other Templar was obscured from her view by Cassandra who was currently beating to a bloody pulp. The ice cracked as the Templar regained the ability to move as the spell faded, and he reached up grasping at the arrow stuck in the side of his neck. He stumbled towards her, clumsily and drunkenly, his sword swung wildly. He didn’t get far when a bolt from Bianca thunk right between the visor of his helmet, smack dab right between his eyes. 

The Templar dropped face first into the ground, and Echo tossed a look over her shoulder at Varric. “Show off,” she accused, lightly. 

“Now, Mockingbird, don’t be jealous,” Varric said, running a loving hand across Bianca. 

“Hyuh!” Cassandra’s sword cleaved it through the templar’s neck, and the templar went lifeless on the ground only a couple of seconds after. The Seeker stood up, her shoulder rising with a long great breath. 

Echo cast her a quick worried look, before her eyes fell upon the mage that was struggling to her feet. Tight dark curled pinned back out of an oval face, enhancing sharp cheek bones, and large dark eyes that looked at them startled. Her wide, full mouth was parted, and her skin was the color of caramel was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Echo inched her way forward, carefully. “Easy now,” she said, setting her bow down on a nearby rock and lifted her hands in a placating gesture because she wished not to frightened the woman. “We aren’t going to hurt you. I promise.” 

The woman’s chin quivered, and she stared at them with a distrustful gaze. It was clear she had been put through a lot in these last few months from the dark circles under her eyes, and the down trodden expression on her face. 

Echo gestured to Solas, and said, “This is Solas. He is a mage, too. He is going to check and make sure you aren’t too hurt, if that’s alright?” 

The mage glanced over at Solas then went to the eye symbol on Cassandra’s armor, obviously recognizing it for what it was, and her brows furrowed slightly. “W-who are you people?” She asked, her voice cracked like dry autumn leaves underneath stumbling feet. 

“We are the Inquisition,” Cassandra said, steadily. “We are here to help.” 

“Help who?” The woman said, a faint trace of suspicion in her gaze. Her body tensed as if ready to fight if need be, even if she did not have her staff near her, and Echo got the impression that beneath it all this mage was no shrinking violet when it came down to it. 

“Anyone who needs it, and you most certainly need it,” Echo said, firmly. Given her condition, Echo knew they couldn’t let the mage go out across the Hinterlands alone. Already put through the ringer, she would be easy prey for whatever dangers laid out there. “Please, let us check your wounds.” 

“The templars…you stopped them before they hurt me badly,” the woman said, wrapping her arms around herself. Her dark skin took a slightly sallow hue, and she visibly shuddered. 

“You are bleeding from your temple,” Echo pointed out. 

“That was from the falling down the hill,” the woman brushed off, then frowned. “Or it may have happened when the templar used a smite, and I fell to the ground. Maker’s breath, this just hasn’t been my day.” 

Echo looked over at Solas, and the male elf inclined his head slightly before he took a couple of steps forward. “It would not be unwise to err on the side of caution,” Solas stated, with a reasonable tone. He held a genially expression on his face, and made sure his stance was not threatening in the slightest. “If you would allow me, I am adept enough at healing and could see what damage the smite has done, as well as see to any laceration you received in your fall. Besides, after what you have been through there are safety in numbers. You could travel with us, until we return to the Crossroads where you can find a better means of travel than simply on foot.” 

_What a great stage master you are, wolf,_ Echo thought, her gut giving a sharp twist. She shook her head lightly, because she didn’t have time to think about who Solas really was, or any of that. _Focus on the problem in front of you for now, and cross that bridge when you come to it._

“Are we sure that’s wise?” Cassandra asked. “The last mage who tried to garner our sympathy did so with the intention of buying time for their allies to attack us.” 

“She isn’t the same as the mages who attacked us at the Crossroads, Cassandra,” Echo said, with a sharp shake of her head. She knew that her and Cassandra would butt heads of this. “If she were, I believe she would have already tried to attack us.” 

“She was hit with a smite,” Cassandra argued. 

“The blade on the end of her staff is not for mere decoration, Seeker,” Solas said, inclining his head towards the staff that laid on the ground, which had a wicked jagged blade at the end. “She was weary from the smite that is true, but she could have easily gotten up, and attacked us while we were in the midst of fending off the templars. I doubt she had the strength or energy to kill one of us, yet she could have easily dealt out harm if she so wished to. Instead, she has clearly chosen not to.” 

Cassandra’s eyes flickered over to the unknown mage, sweeping across her from head to toe. “I suppose you have a point,” she said, reluctantly. She clearly was not on the bandwagon for bringing the nameless mage along, but would not oppose it unless given a reason. “We are supposed to help all the innocents who are caught in this war, whether they be refugees or not.” 

“What a glowing recommendation,” the mage said, with a light huff. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked exhausted. “Though I cannot fault your wariness, especially given the actions the other mages have taken. I’m not sure I would trust a mage on sight, either.” 

“Well, not that verbal spat is out of the way,” Varric commented, throwing in his two cents. “You ready to be the new tagalong, because daylight is wasting, and the Seeker is a bit of a task master.” 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. 

The mage frowned, weighing her options carefully. She gnawed on her lower lip, and her eyes flinched down to the dead templar, before she blanched. Pressing her palm over her mouth, her gaze met Echo’s for a long moment. There must have been something on her face that reassured the mage because she seemed to relax a fraction, and then ducked her head. “Very well,” the mage commented, quietly. “I humbly accept your offer of aid, and you have my gratitude for rescuing me from those templars.” 

_Only a mage who comes from a noble house would use manners at a time like this,_ Echo thought, idly. “Welcome to our little group of misfits…” She trailed off when she realized that she hadn’t even thought to ask the mage her name yet. 

“Catherine,” she replied, with a hint of a smile. “My name is Catherine.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Originally this chapter was going to be a lot longer, but when it got to be thirty pages long, and was still growing, I split it in half. I felt that them meeting Catherine was a good stopping place. Expect an action packed next chapter. :D
> 
> If I had to describe what Solas and Echo’s romance is going to be like with a couple of songs, my first choice would be “I Found” by Amber Run. Go to Youtube and listen to it, it’s an amazing song. My second choice would be “Slide” by Alanis Morisette,.
> 
> MAIN STORYLINE  
> 1.) Marked (completed) 1st in the series.  
> 2.) Branded (in progress) 2nd in the series.  
> 3.) Through the Ashes We Climb (in progress) 3rd in the series.  
> \--Branded and Through the Ashes We Climb overlap time wise.  
> 4.) *Title In Work* (planned) 4th in the series.  
> SIDE STORIES  
> 5.) These Thoughts of You (completed) Alistair thinks on his dead beloved. *current time*  
> 6.) A Queen’s Proposal (completed) Queen Anora needs a husband. *three years after the blight ended*  
> 7.) TALES FROM KIRKWALL  
> Stories complied together of Echo’s time in Kirkwall. Some snippets, some oneshots, some introspective. Will not be in canonical order. I write these as I think of them, so they won’t be in order as they occurred.  
> Ch. 1--Such Fragile Things (completed) Isabella takes Echo out on a night of debauchery that ends up landing them in hot water.  
> Ch. 2--Snip, Snap, Crick, Crack (completed) *Set after Leandra’s death. Hawke centric with Fenris/Hawke and a helpful Echo*  
> 8.) Mythal’s Tears (planned) *Set after they reach Skyhold. Summary: Ashlinn and Echo come up with a plan to give the elves a new homeland, but the cost may be greater than they are willing to pay)  
> 9.) Marked and Branded AU One Shots (planned) *Smutty One Shots of Alternative Universe with characters from Marked and Branded such as Echo, Ashlinn, Mahanon, Marco, Catherine where the world put them on a different path. Basically just a reason to write some smut*  
> 10.) He Made Me Smile (completed) Ashlinn thinks on her relationship with Alistair and how she cannot regret where she has ended up.  
> I have plans for other side stories, but so far this is what I have mapped out.


	3. A Stumble Too Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song:
> 
> “Mad World” by Gary Jules
> 
> I want to thank, dingo_dog, chaino425, millie435, for all the bookmarks!
> 
> I want to thank KittyDragoness for the review.
> 
> I want to thank 0102and03, cheshiire, Tandorri_Frost, Hexpixie, chain0425, KittyDragoness, WickedWitchoftheWilds, Elina, Hotpotato, UsakoAuditore, seraphem31, iner, maireh, and Silenceatemycat and the 9 guests who left me kudos! Thank you so much! :D

Chapter Three 

“A Stumble Too Far”

Catherine seemed to be doing better, after Solas healed her scraps and bruises. She was given a lyrium potion that Cassandra had purchased for Solas, and Echo, even though both of them stated they would not use it. Echo was thankful now for such forethought because it seemed to ease the stress that had been taunt on Catherine’s face, and reenergized her. They gave her a few minutes before they started moving again, and Echo noted that Cassandra lingered nearby Catherine the whole time. The Seeker’s trust was not so easily swayed, and Echo supposed she kind of understand up to a point, but a person shouldn’t judge a whole group by the actions of a few. She hoped that the Seeker would come to see that, and in time accept it. 

They had been traveling for nearly another two hours, Echo estimated because in Thedas had created a watch yet. _The dwarves probably have watches down in Ozammar. If they could make a golem surely they could make a watch,_ the strange passed through her mind. It was in the afternoon, that she knew for the sun now favored the horizon to the west, and she guessed that they must have three hours at the most left before they were forced to make camp. Popping her neck, Echo released a large sigh. So far other than the templars who attacked Catherine, the only other group they had come across was a group of rebel mages that had no qualms about attacking them. The battle had been swift and brutal; leaving her with a singed leg, the front of her armor coated in blood and the stench of death clung to her now like a second skin. 

Catherine had looked down at her fellow mages and murmured a quiet prayer. Echo imagined it was no easy fighting against them for her. In some ways it must be like looking in a mirror. To see what she could have easily become, and Echo knew that was a very frightening thing to realize. 

It wasn’t long before the group stumbled upon a cave entrance that sat, smack dabble in the middle of the valley. It looked oddly out of place, as if the earth had suddenly just burst open in that spot for no rhythm or reason. At the mouth of the cave barely discernable by the naked eye from this distance was a shimmering blue barrier, and Echo perked up slightly. “Do you see that?” She lifted her hand, and jabbed a finger in the direction of the cave while craning her head towards Solas. 

“It’s a cave,” Varric said, flatly. 

“Yes,” Echo said, trying to quell the smile that tugged on the corner of her mouth. She failed miserably. She knew his aversion to the underground. “But there is a barrier cast over the entrance.” 

“It appears that the barrier was erected to keep out any unexpected visitors. It would also be the ideal spot to hide a cache,” Solas commented, with a scrutinizing gaze pinned on the cave entrance. “I believe it would be prudent to search it.” 

Solas was right. A cache could very well be hidden down in the cave, and Recruit Whittle needed those supplies. It would be better to go inside, and check to make certain the cache was there than to mark it on the map, only to send the scouts on a wild goose chase. “Well, I guess it’s down the rabbit hole, hmm?” 

Varric looked rather disgruntled at that, but did not argue. 

“Not a fan of caves, I take it?” Catherine asked. 

“Funnily enough I’ve never looked into a dark hole leading into some unknown depths of the earth and had the urge to go inside,” Varric commented, dryly. “I imagine that’d be a great sin in Ozammar, but up here on the surface we like to call it, _common sense.”_

“Oh, Varric, where is your sense of adventure?” Echo chuckled. 

“Safely restrained by my self-preservation,” Varric said, his right hand twitched. He was contemplating pulling Bianca out of her holder on his back, and keep his finger on the trigger. “Self-preservation is that natural instinct to keep yourself safe, in case you were wondering, Mockingbird.” 

“I know what self-preservation is!” Echo said, snappishly. 

“Really? Because there are times that I wonder,” Varric shot back. 

Solas gave a breathless laugh, while Cassandra sighed, heavily. Catherine just looked rather bemused. Echo just sighed, and shook her head with light exasperation. “I’m not exactly an expert here at magic, so exactly how do we take down a barrier?” She asked. 

“It depends on the barrier itself. All barriers are inherently have a foundation in which they are built up from. Usually a type of base magic such as fire, ice, and so on,” Catherine interjected, helpfully. 

“There are more intricate barriers, of course. Ones that are not so easily to discern, and built on multiple pillars of magic that have been weaved together. However, this is rather mundane casting. Easy to keep out templars and bandits, but other mages could easily dispel it,” Solas added, a hint of a frown upon his lips. “This caster seems to be fond of ice magic, and in order to destroy the barrier we need the antithesis to that.” 

“Fire,” Varric said, with a crooked smile. “You could have just said you needed fire.” 

Solas sighed. 

It was decided that Solas should dispel the barrier because Catherine was still recovering from her attack. It was always fascinating to watch Solas cast his magic. The way he moved, with such a lethal grace, almost like he was rehearsing a well practiced dance rather than a mage bringing down a barrier. Her eyes lingered a little longer than they should, transfixed by his moment and the bursts of magic that crinkled along the edge of her skin as if trying to find a way in. When the barrier fell, he turned back towards them and caught her wandering gaze. His expression was composed as ever, but there was a hint of smugness in his smile that made Echo snap back into reality, and her eyes darted away from his face hastily. 

“Shall we?” Echo said, her voice a pitch too high for her liking as she marched towards the cave entrance. Her eyes didn’t dare look at any of them for free they had caught her slip as certainly as Solas had, and she ducked her head slightly to hide the burning embarrassment on her cheeks. God, she used to be less easy to get flustered. And it also didn’t help that her brain was screaming at her every time she looked upon his face, _Dread wolf! Dread wolf!_ It was loud like alarm bells, and reminded her to not let her guard drop any farther than it already had. She desperately built her walls up, and wished that at times, they felt more solid like stone instead of like wet sand. 

Echo trudged along across the uneven path of the cave when the sensation of pins and needles scraped across her skin. Her spine jolted ramrod straight, and she abruptly halted in the center of the cave. 

“What is wrong?” Cassandra asked, immediately sensing the sudden change. 

A deep furrow appeared upon her brow, Echo glanced around at the dark cold cavern walls caught in the twilight, and she turned to look at the group. “Is a cave supposed to be warm like this? It’s supposed to get colder the further you go, but there is…something off,” she said, her voice sounding far off. Her heart popped inside of her chest, before it started to give sharp, uneven beats. 

“Perhaps we haven’t gotten far enough in for it to get cold yet,” Catherine said, but an anxious feeling seethed in the pit of her gut. 

“We are fifteen feet in, and we’ve been going downward,” Echo said, a hint of apprehension in her tone. “We should have started to feel the cold by now.” 

Cassandra drew her sword as silently as possible from its sheath. Beams of afternoon sun from the entrance glanced off the front of her shield, nearly blinding in its intensity. “What do you think it is?” The Seeker asked, voice as sharp as her blade. 

“I’m not sure,” Echo replied. “Nothing good.” 

“This is why I don’t go into caves,” Varric grumbled. 

Echo, rather subdued now, moved further into the cave with careful and calculated steps. The overwhelming feeling that stabbed at her heart, only increased the further they got into the dark depths, and faint whisper begun to flirt along the shell of her ear when they came upon a large circular cavernous room, but she could see what lay beyond it. “Demons,” she hissed, quietly. 

“A rift?” Cassandra asked. 

Echo’s hand clenched tightly. “No, I feel nothing from the mark,” she whispered out. “If it were a rift I would feel this tightening, and this pull towards it.” 

“Then it is likely the work of the mage who cast the barrier,” Cassandra said, grimly. “We must stay on our guard. If this is the work of blood magic then it will be…” 

“Yeah, we know, Seeker,” Varric said, roughly. 

Echo quietly drew her daggers from their sheaths at her waist, because in the cave it would most likely mean fighting in close quarters, and her bow would not be practical. She heard Bianca being readied, and felt Solas and Catherine’s magics stir. They charged into the room, and chaos instantly struck. The Shades that had been slinking about immediately turned their attention to the intruders, and Echo caught sight of the mage who was responsible for them. 

The hot went icy in a split second, and Echo shifted her weight to avoid the mass of ice that showered down towards her. A coldness nipped at her side, but it was merely a glance. Her armor kept it easily off of her skin, and Cassandra used her shield to avoid the brunt of it before she rammed said shield straight into a Shade’s face. Shades weren’t the most intelligent of demons, so Echo set her sights on the mage. He could summon more if he was allowed to, and it could be something bigger. Something more dangerous. 

Echo rushed up the manmade stairs, and faced the mage to end things quickly. She ducked down as the mage sent a blast of ice towards her head, and Varric released a bolt from Bianca. It hit the man’s side and distracted him, so Echo could plunge her dagger straight into his jugular. It was shocking how ease the blade cut through flesh and Echo pulled the blade free watching as the man fell to the ground. He choked out his last breath before he slumped, and she turned towards the others. Solas finished off the last Shade, and Catherine muttered a quiet oath as the flames she had used to fell one beast dissipated only leaving behind a trail of smoke. Cassandra glared at the papers, and bloody symbols that coated the walls. 

“It looks like you were right, Seeker,” Solas commented, his tone carefully quiet. “Blood magic was at work here.” 

“I wish that I were not,” Cassandra told him, sheathing her sword and her dark eyes swept across the pieces of parchment scattered along the make shift desk. Hasty scribbles--some written in ink, other in blood--that held not an ounce of sense to them. “Though I am glad that were here to stop this. He was clearly not of sound mind, and we can only guess at what he had planned summoning those demons.” “Yes,” Solas acknowledged. While he did not find all blood magic evil for it was the intent behind the spell that marked the difference, he was no saddened to see this mage slain. “It appears that he was in the process of summoning even more.” 

Catherine had made her way up the steps, and then gave a sharp gasp when her eyes landed upon the body. Her hand flew to her heart, and she looked like the world had dropped out from underneath her. 

“Catherine? What’s wrong?” Echo asked, frowning. 

“I knew him,” Catherine choked. A tremble hand reached up, and her fingers curled against her mouth. “He was part of the Ostwick Circle.” 

Echo gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry,” she said. Some of them may have been her friends. Another thing that angered her about this war was how brother was pitted against brother, families torn asunder, and so much more. Instead of banding together to fight the Breach, they were lost in their narrow minded illusions and stuck in their ways so much so that they could not see beyond themselves for the greater good. “Did you know him well?” 

“We were not friends, if that is what you ask, but I knew him in passing,” Catherine said, swallowing harshly. “I just don’t understand. Daniel was so against blood magic. Even after the Circles disbanded, he was one of the most level headed of us all,” she said, disbelief and pain colored her voice. “I just don’t understand why he would do this.” 

“Likely his fear of templars drove him to such desperate measures, and his fumbles with magic beyond his understanding doomed him before he even started,” Solas said, with a grievous expression etched onto his features. 

Catherine’s chest heaved with a deep breath, and she looked away from Daniel’s body. Her hands were clutched into bloodless fists, and her expression distraught. “Can we leave? Please?” She begged, her voice barely more than a shaken whisper. 

“We need to check the rest of the cave for the supplies cache, but we will be quick about it, I promise,” Echo reassured her, with a compassionate tone of voice. Her heart ached for the other woman, and she did not have to image the painful disbelief Catherine was currently experiencing. The cognitive disassociation where she could not accept that this person she knew could do something like blood magic, and demon summoning. Echo’s own mind warred with trying to image the kind, gentle, cat-loving Anders blowing up the Chantry, and even now, it felt like a story rather than reality. It was a rather bitter pill to swallow. 

Cassandra found a large crate, and managed to crack the lid open. It had been filled with blankets, clothing, and food rations. Yet Echo couldn’t seem to feel relieved over the discovery. There was something nagging at her. Clawing viciously at the pit of her stomach, and would not let go. Cassandra told Varric to mark their location on the mark, and Varric say something sarcastically back, but Echo barely heard them of the whispers that cracked against her eardrum intrusively. It was then she realized that the strange feeling that she had gotten when they first entered the cave was still _here_. In fact, it was stronger now than it had been before. She stepped back away from the large crate, and peered down the pathway that ventured deeper into the cave. On the far wall, she could make out the faintest red glow, and her heart skipped a beat inside of her chest. 

“Where are you going, Mockingbird?” Varric followed as she took hasty steps down the path, and when they came around the corner, the dwarf stopped dead still. “Tell me that is _not_ what I think it is!” 

Echo wished that she could, but she felt rooted to the spot. Her eyes moved across the lyrium veins that weaved in a web-like pattern in the stone, and traced them back to the large red crystal that stood in front of them about four feet tall and a foot wide. The frantic whispers grew with renewed forced, beckoning her with a tainted lullaby to reach out and claim the red lyrium as her own. If she had not know what it was, then she might have fallen for it. _Just like that poor mage did,_ Echo thought, willing to be that is what happened. 

“What is going on?” Cassandra asked, alarmed by Varric’s shout. There were a rush of footsteps, and Echo felt them come to a halt right behind her. “Maker’s Breath.” 

“It that lyrium?” Catherine asked, confused. 

“Not the kind you want to have anything to do with,” Varric said, darkly. “It doesn’t matter if they are a mage or not. You get ahold of this stuff, and it messes you up in a bad way.” 

“Did…did Daniel use it?” Catherine blanched, horrified. She had heard tales of what happened in Kirkwall, and the monster that the Knight Commander had become. “If he used it thinking it was safe like the lyrium we mages normally used…” Her throat bobbed, dark lips parted with a shaky breath. “Could it explain why he did what he did? Why he turned to blood magic?” 

“It could have been part of the reason, yes,” Solas said, uneasily. 

“Poor bastard,” Varric shook his head. “He had no idea the hornet’s nest he was dealing with.” 

Echo stared hard at the red lyrium crystal that stood about three feet tall, and faint whispers curled against her ears, causing her draw back away from the glowing stone. “First at the temple? Now here?” She frowned, deeply. “I have never seen or heard of red lyrium in the Hinterlands before, and believe I would have. Could the rifts had brought it here?” 

“It is a possibility, but I am uncertain as to the how,” Solas said, his jaw clenched as his blue eyes stared unblinking at the red lyrium. He looked equally disturbed by the sight of the red lyrium, and had a knuckle white grip on his staff. 

“If the rifts aren’t the connection, I fear to wonder what is spreading it,” Varric glared, his face twisted with a lot of emotions. 

Echo placed a hand on his shoulder. She knew that Varric’s brother had been driven mad by the red lyrium, and while Bartran was no longer anywhere it’s influence, he was never the same. He was still haunted, and barely there. Varric bowed his head, and took a deep breath before he gave her a small nod. 

“I don’t like it,” Catherine said, looking ill. She was two feet behind the rest of them, and the farthest away from the lyrium. “It’s…whispering, and makes my head hurt. Regular lyrium has never done. Oh, Daniel, how he could be so stupid.” 

“We need to dispose of it,” Cassandra stated, firmly. 

“Couldn’t agree more, Seeker,” Varric said. 

“I would suggest shattering, but I don’t think that’s exactly safe. If any of us inhale that, I shudder to think what it will do,” Echo said, making a face. Her stomach tightened unpleasantly at the thought. “What happened to the shard that Hawke disposed of? The only mention he ever made to me was that it had been dealt with.” 

“Sandal took care of it. He somehow enchanted it into a rune, nullifying the sour aspect of it,” Varric commented, thoughtfully. 

“Sandal?” Solas cocked his head to the side. 

“Sandal was exposed to raw lyrium as a child. That’s where Bohdan found him in the deep roads near lyrium veins and took him and raised him,” Varric explained, a thoughtfully expression on his face. “He had been done there too long, and the lyrium addled his mind, and even though his body has grown, his mind remains child-like. Sweet kid, and savant when it comes to enchantments.” 

“Tranquil also are skilled with enchantments,” Cassandra pondered, out loud. “If we could find some skilled enough with lyrium, and perhaps see if we can have someone track down Bohdan and his son, then we might be able to safely get rid of the lyrium. I shall mark it on the map, and we should mention this to the scouts so they can keep people away.” 

Echo nodded, lightly. “For now, there is nothing that can be done about it. Now let’s get out of here. It’s damp, and dark, and that lyrium is giving me a headache.” 

“Thank the Maker,” Catherine breathed, relieved. 

Echo power walked out of the cave, and was never happier to see the light of day. The dark whispered fled from her mind, but left wounds in it’s wake. She felt mentally exhausted, and even though the sun was still above the horizon, she would love for nothing more than to sink into her bedroll. She even joked about making camp to which Cassandra gave her the evil eye, and she turned to keep making their journey through the Hinterlands. They were making a large circle, and indeed to sweep back up, and when close enough to the Crossroad hunt for the food so desperately needed. Echo only somewhere between here, and there they could find a wagon to use. Otherwise, carrying all the food needed would be a difficult task. A mad rush back and forth from the Crossroads to the grassy plains in which the animals roamed, and such would be taxing on time and effort. 

Hair prickled on the nape of her neck, and she felt gooseflesh spread along her skin beneath her armor. A sudden throb pulsed through her temples, and she felt the mark on the palm of her hand coil tight. There was a small tug, and Echo knew as soon as soon as they reached the top of the hill what would be on the other side. “A rift,” she called out to the others, while her bow slid into the palm of her hand, and her pulse raced at the base of her neck. She had known about the rifts from talk in the War Room, and had known she would have to close then after facing whatever demons dropped out it. Of course, facing the reality of the task before was a whole different monster. Unease slithered and settled into her gut like a stone that weigh two tons, and as soon as she reached the tippy top of the hill, she glowered at the rift about twenty yards away. 

It had yet to spawn demons. It seems that only when approached by some kind of life did the rift activate, almost like it was triggered. 

“That’s a rift?” Catherine stared at it, enthralled as much as she was frightened. “I heard rumors about it, but never seen one up close. It’s so…sparkly. And green.” 

“Another one for the obvious, huh?” Varric looked amused. “You sure you and Mockingbird weren’t separated at birth, Princess?” 

Catherine startled, slightly. She looked down at the dwarf, with a confused look. “I would say not. I think one of my parents would have some explaining to do if they had an elven child,” she said, in a mild tone. “And princess?” 

“You strike me as the nobility sort,” Varric shrugged. 

Catherine pursed her lips. “Well…you’re not wrong about the nobility part, but I’m hardly a princess,” she replied, holding her staff tightly in her hands. 

“I call it how I see it,” Varric smirked. 

“Trust me, once you hear some of the other nicknames Varric has given people, how much you’ve lucked out,” Echo said, with a toothy smile. “Just ask Solas.” 

Solas gave her a withering look. “As amusing as the current banter is, I believe we should focus back upon the matter at hand,” he said, his left brow arched. “The rift will not close itself.” 

“Solas is right,” Cassandra said, brusquely. “The rift must be dealt with and quickly. We cannot ignore, and allow it to harm anymore than it already has.” 

“I’m not going to ignore it,” Echo said, an acerbic tone to her voice. Honestly, like she was going to walk past it and go on her merry way. Did she ignore the Breach when she was scantily minutes away from Death’s waiting arms? No, she did not. The Seeker should give her more credit than that. “I’m just summoning up the willpower to approach it, and face what follows.” 

The first wave of demons had been nothing more than the ghostly green skeletons, throwing plasma balls at them, and had with relative ease had been dispatched. Perhaps, that should have been a warning that the next wave would not be so easily put down. The rift snapped violently, and a Rage Demon pulled itself out of the ground while a Despair Demon appeared out of an icy mist, and two Greater Shades seemed to slink out of the shadows. 

“Well, shit,” Varric had said. 

_Well, shit indeed,_ Echo thought, grimly. It was the first rift they had come across, and she was already over them. The Despair demon went straight for Catherine, and the mage cringed, but looked rather unsurprised about being it’s target. Thankfully, she seemed to know a bit about fire magic so she met the creature on equal footing, with the help of Solas. Cassandra battled the Greater Shades, alternating between the two as she weaved around them in a fierce, and deadly dance. 

Which left her and Varric with the Rage Demon. 

It slithered towards her, a Rage Demon, that looked like a snot ball made of lava. Echo had never considered them as frightening, not in the way Terrors or Pride Demons inspired, but danger nonetheless. Maybe even more to her given her own tumultuous history with her rage. Rage Demons held a sulfuric smell, sharp and over powering, and it made her nose wrinkle in disgust. She pulled back arrow after arrow, and let them fly. It did little to deter the demon, and she fired one last arrow before she darted around to keep a boulder squarely between her and it. Varric stood on the hill several yards away, bolts flying through the air hitting the Rage demon. Even with their combine efforts, it would take great effort to kill it. 

Echo quickly scaled the rock. It was quite easy to find foot and hands in the corroded stone, and she reached the top, watching as the Rage demon circled around, clearing bemused as to where she went. Steadying herself on her feet, Echo scrambled to think of a plan. The others were still invested into their own battles, so they did not have the luxury of their aid right this very second, and Echo bit her lower lip. She couldn’t get up close to it with her daggers, that was like asking to be burnt to a crisp, and she felt her magic quiver beneath her skin. She didn’t know ice magic all that well. Beyond cooling herself off on a sweltering summer day, she hardly had need to call upon it. Biting her lower, she knew she had to try. 

She focused on the memory of Solas’s magic. How it felt, smelt and tasted when he cast the plethora of winter-esque spells in her arsenal. The sharp inhaled of cold air that she could feel so deeply in her lungs. The rushed chill that prickled along her skin, and the smell of snow that tickled her nose. Her mana sloshed around inside of her, and she struggled to grasp it. Her eyes were clenched closed tightly, and she recalled the image of untouched snow covering a forest, glowing blue underneath the moon light. 

The spell ripped through her, painfully like nails scraping along all her insides, but she _felt_ the shards of ice materialize in the air before they cascaded down on the Rage demon who attempted to climb the rock. A roar echoed through the valley, and the Rage demon wilted back, clawing at itself to rid itself of the ice that had impaled it. Cassandra who had finished the Shade, came charging over and with three violent slash of her sword, she finished the Rage demon off. 

The rift sizzled, and hissed, but was otherwise calm. Echo slid down off the rock, onto shaky legs. The spell had cost her a lot of her energy, and Solas had an expression on his face of clear disapproval as he strode towards her with long lengthy strides. “That was foolish, da’len,” he told her, his tone sharp and held an unforgiving edge. 

“Foolish,” she agreed, “but it worked.” 

“That is hardly the point,” Solas said, disapprovingly. 

“Maybe not in your eyes,” Echo retorted, and then stepped past him. Was there a saying about not taunting a wolf? Or was it a tiger? Either way, she felt his eyes bore into the back of her skull, and a trill of nervousness darted down her spine. _It’s kind of too late now, isn’t it?_

She approached the rift, giving it a narrowed eyed look. The mark on her palm itched, and ached uncomfortably. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she lifted her hand. The band of energy shot out between her and the rift, the connection mind numbing in it’s force, and her right foot slipped slightly, but she righted herself only a second later. The feel of the Fade pressed along her skin, intimately as a lover, sharing a familiarity with her that she did not share with it. Angrily gnashing her teeth together, she gave one last push of energy and the rift slammed such with a great boom. 

Echo’s body pitched forward, but she managed to keep herself from falling over. With her heart pounding inside of her chest, she lifted her head, looking up at the Seeker with an eyebrow arched. “Can we make camp _now_?” Echo asked, breathlessly. 

Cassandra just sighed. 

* * *

“Your time is almost up, da’len.” 

The white sand of the hourglass fell with a silent hiss, and the bottom half was nearly filled. It was large and weighty, almost comical in its size compared to the books it sat next to on Solas’s cot. Why the apostate chose to carry it around was beyond Echo; it looked rather cumbersome to carry. Beads of sweat dripped down Echo’s temples as the flame twisted right above the palm of her hand. Her lips were pressed together, and her expression pinched as all her focus went into holding the flame. She had been conjuring it for nearly a half an hour. The small flame did not require a lot of mana, at first. To keep it alive and blazing over time however slowly drained her pools. It was a way to build up stamina, according to Solas since she was against the use of lyrium unless it was an emergency. 

She could not let it go out, or Solas would make her start again. And he had already twice now. She was pretty sure this was his sly was of punishing her for being so foolhardy and using the ice spell earlier. She did not call him on it, and instead endured the best she could. The second time the sand of the hourglass had almost completely fallen to the bottom half. Only a minute or two longer, Echo would have be done with this exercise. It was like torture. It did not only strain her physically, but also mentally, and after the day they had, she was already so worn. An exhaustion so deep burrowed into her chest, and she could not hide from it. Not after training with Cassandra, and it only got worse when the Seeker told her that when they returned to Haven, Scout Charter had been chosen to oversee her training as a rogue, by Leliana. Echo was firmly convinced she had done something wrong, and the punishment was death by training. 

“Hold it,” Solas ordered, and he knelt down beside her. His blue eyes riveted to the side of her face, and he frowned when she tensed. She looked at him through the corner of her eye, and her jaw trembled ever so slightly. 

The wariness in her eyes made him uneasy. She listened without reservations when he explained magical theories, and how each tier of magic differed from the next. Her expression softened, almost to the point of being relaxed when her eyes would flicker to the wolf’s jaw hung around his throat. Her shoulders tensed, and brows furrowed much like they did now when she was faced with such close proximity to him. Shadows gathered behind those mismatched eyes, and a cold sliver of suspicion struck in his heart. He raked his memory for a trace of her face, trying to ascertain if they had crossed in the time before the Veil and yet nothing came to the forefront of his mind. 

He had his bag packed, ready to flee at any given moment. Yet nothing happened. Whatever her suspicions were, they had not been shared and that was not a relief as one might imagine. If anything, it raised his hackles and put him on constant alert. Any spirits he thought to consult were far out of his reach, and he would no risk bring Wisdom so close to the Breach again. For now, he had to tread carefully. “You’re mind wanders, da’len,” he chastised, his tone quiet as he watched the flame in the palm of her hand flickered ever slightly. 

Echo clenched her jaw, stubbornly. Her eyes pulled away from Solas, and onto the flame in her palm. She focused her entire attention on it, and her teeth gnashed together. Her chest rose and fell sharply, and her throat dipped, slick with sweat. Time seemed to slow down as if to taunt her, and she spared the hourglass a glower. If only her gaze held the ability to speed time forward, but alas it did not. 

Minutes passed, until finally, the last grain of sand dropped to the bottom of the hour. “And release,” Solas told her, his tone quiet. 

The flame disappeared out of existence with a poof of smoke, and Echo slumped forward relieved. She buried her face into her hands, and let out a small groan. “Finally,” whispered Echo, allowing the tension to slip out of her body, limb by limb. “Remind why we are doing this again?” 

“Because you are needed to be trained in your magic, and the best place to start is to build your endurance when casting spells. The longer you can hold a spell, or more mana you can put behind it, can make a number of spells more effective,” Solas told her, his voice crisp and uncompromising. A sternness had settled onto his features, and only marred by the frown in the center of his brow. “This exercise allows to slowly strengthen your mana, and your connection to it. It opens the pathways of magic in your body, allowing the magic to flow freely, and with practice those pathways will become easier, stronger so your magic will heed you at a moment’s notice instead of it being a struggle.” 

The camp had been made upon a top a tall hill, hidden within from sight by trees and brush. The night was still, and silent, as if all the troubles of the Hinterlands dissipated underneath the gleaming stars and waited for the new day. Rations had been given out, and after supper, Varric had went to his cot. He scribbled in a book, using the firelight to help him see. Catherine had been very quiet, and had simply made her cot, and went to bed. Cassandra took first watch, and sat on a boulder just on the outer ring of their makeshift camp. 

Echo looked up at Solas through the curtain of her hair. “So magic moved through paths like blood moves through the veins?” She asked, not able to help her curiosity. 

“In a sense,” Solas nodded. “It a light that lives and thrives in side of you. If it is cared for and nurtured it will grow into a rive, flowing through you underneath your skin. If it is ignored, and locked away, it was become nothing more than the faint trickle of a babbling brook.” 

“So I’m a babbling brook is what you are saying?” Echo said, looking faintly amused by the metaphor. 

“I would not say that you are diminished down to that, but you have much work to be done before you can cast unhindered. You force too much out, your body punishes you,” Solas commented, evenly. The firelight played upon the planes of his face, enhancing his already strong features. “Magic that should be benign only to you, hurts you more than it hurts your foes. Extending yourself too greatly too fast, you could damage the pathways of your magic, and this can render it so that you may not be able to use the full use of your magic ever again.” 

“Like I did with the Rage demon,” Echo guessed, biting back a half smile. 

“Exactly so,” Solas said, with a frown. “You could have done yourself greater harm than you could have comprehended.” 

It was almost easy to forget in these moments who he actually was. To slip into the notion that he was an apostate who was here to help, and nothing more, and Echo envied his ability to hide his emotions so well because she felt like she was floundering. Sometimes, she entertained the idea of telling him what she knew. Just to get a rise out of him. To see what his reaction was. To pull the mask from his face as surely as he ripped the one off of hers, and see if the wolf’s teeth held bite. Such childish impulses faded given enough counted breaths, and a reminder that he had helped with the Breach. _But to what end?_ The jaded suspicious part of her mind whispered, franticly. _What does the Dread Wolf get out of helping you?_

She didn’t want these fears and thoughts. They were a burden heaped onto of an already impossible burden she had to bear, and she wished the memory had never returned. Had not made her question who she was, and if Echo Harper was even real. Had it not made her worry at the wolf at her back, and what his motivations were. Being this close to Solas just made them all that much worse, because all of it was brought back out after she had just got it squared away. He had managed to find an opening, a little sliver of herself that was unguarded, and it felt like he was playing the dutiful instructor just to find vulnerabilities she should not have. 

Logically, she knew even if that held truth, it was not the entire truth, but her heart cried out with a burst of denial all the same. On a lengthy breath, she swallowed back the rage and confusion. She adjusted the collar of her tunic, and fiddled with it for a moment to long before she tilted her head. “Can I trust you, Solas? Truly trust you?” Echo asked, looking him dead in the eye. 

He had not been expecting it, that was much clear by how he reeled back slightly before he could help himself. His eyes narrowed, the blueness of them scrutinized her and the intensity searing. His lips formed an uncompromising line, and a knot appeared in the center of his brow. “I am uncertain on how to reply,” Solas answered, he took a step back, not quite content with the uncertainty she managed to bring out in him. 

A faint smile graced her lips, but it did not match sharpness of her eyes. “Then isn’t that in and of itself an answer?” She asked, before she rose off her feet. She needed to be away from him, and the doubts and questions that he created. It was all coming to a head, where she would have to confront him with her knowledge that much she knew, but what would be the aftermath was the question. She made her way over to her bedroll, and laid down on it, before she covered up tightly. She ignored the sensation of Solas’s eyes lingering on her, and let out a deep sigh. Her eyes fell closed, and the Fade readily welcomed her. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to do a chapter almost solely from Echo’s point of view, without allowing us to see what Solas was thinking, and leave a little mystery to what his reaction is to Echo’s question. Thank you all so much. Hope you enjoyed! :D


	4. In These Waking Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas seeks out Wisdom as his doubts grow. Meanwhile Echo searches for Ashlinn in the Fade, and in doing so puts herself at great risks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank, AlwaysQuesting, dingo_dog, chaino425, millie435, for all the bookmarks!  
> I want to thank Kohanita, auntjilly89, 13_Ravens, Ardis, 0102and03, cheshiire, Tandorri_Frost, Hexpixie, chain0425, KittyDragoness, WickedWitchoftheWilds, Elina, Hotpotato, UsakoAuditore, seraphem31, iner, maireh, and Silenceatemycat and 13 guests for all the kudos! You are all awesome! :D
> 
> Inspired by:  
> “After the Fall” by Two Steps From Hell  
> “Beyond the Veil” by Lindsey Stirling

* * *

Chapter Four 

“In These Waking Dreams”

* * *

_Solas stared out into the Fade, his eyes distant as if plumbing memories lost to time, and buried beneath the centuries. The shivered in the air around him, and his fingers twitched with a need to sort through them. Yet he could not find the desire to do in his heart tonight for too many thoughts weighed heavily upon his mind._

_Wisdom had joined him tonight, and sat upon the stone bench behind him. The tower that had been crumbling in modern time had been rebuilt in the Fade, standing tall as it had been when it was first built. “I remember a time when you were the impertinent youth that sat at my feet and learned wisdom, unsatisfied with what I taught him,” the spirit recalled, with her head tilted to the side. “A heart too wild filled with worldly ambition and desires to allow such things as wisdom and knowledge take root.”_

_“I was young then. My rebellious nature could not be tempered nor tamed, and I was led by selfish desire. I thought I knew all there was to know, and had all the answers allowing myself to be deceived by grand illusions and the temptations of power. I paid dearly for my youthful transgression, and that youthful folly did not last in the face of war and famine and betrayal,” Solas commented, his hands clasped behind his back. The Elvhen Gods had not always been revered as Gods. No, there had been a time where they had been merely leaders, kings and queens, amongst their own people. A simpler time before time had twisted them into reverent beings meant to be worshipped, and herald as Gods. Fen’Harel had been born from that, but he was still so different from the others, like June and Andruil. Oh, he had great pride in being one of the most powerful of his people, but he never allowed his lofty title to separate him from those he ruled over. To do so would have been to lose himself, if he hadn’t already by that time. “Yet even after time taught me such cruel lessons I stained what wisdom I gained with crimes, because I had no other choice, and the world paid the heavy price. The vast oceans drank Arlthan, and it’s gleaming sister cities crumbled into the depths of the earth. Magic that once free, now chained. Spirits that once happily roamed the earth side by side with the living, now tormented and kept apart from a world that keenly misses their touch._

_“I have wrong this world,” Solas acknowledged, with a weighty sigh. Tension trembled along the line of his shoulders, and he folded his arms over his chest. “My actions cannot be taken back, nor should they be. As regrettable what I have done was, it had to be done for what _they_ would have done would have been a greater sin, and there would have been nothing of left of the world to save.”_

_“Your moods are changing swifter than the tides. You have been undone by your growing doubts, I sense this,” Wisdom commented, tone light and gentle._

_“If I am so undone it is because of her,” Solas said, an edge of frustration in his voice. He shook his head side to side. “If such a thing as Fate and Design truly exist they seem determine to confound me in my most trying of times, and in the form of Echo Harper.”_

_Wisdom bit back a smile. “You raised your concerns the last time we spoke about her, but this is more than wondering if she is one of the people. Something she has done or said has shaken your mask, Dread Wolf,” she commented, gently brushing a wisp of light that came closer with an almost motherly affection._

_Solas stood there for a long moment, his jaw worked. “I believe she knows the truth to my identity,” he admitted, with a shuttered expression._

_“And you do not know what has given yourself away,” Wisdom finished, with a light frown._

_“Nor do I know why she keeps her silence if she knows the truth. She has many opportunities to divulge it. What holds her silence? It is most…vexing,” Solas said, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the growing ache that stemmed from a tight knot at the base of his neck and into his skull. “And her trust is not so easily gain with her wariness of me.”_

_“You speak as if you must learn the depths of her knowledge, or gain her trust as if they are separate choices,” Wisdom clucked her tongue, with an eyebrow arched. “The silence may have a reason you might not understand. Perhaps out of fear, or out of confusion. It grants you a window of time, lethallin. A window of time where you can give better reasons, and perhaps gain trust as well.”_

_“It will not be so simple,” Solas shook his head._

_“Things never are, but I believe you will regret your actions if choose to do otherwise. Just be gentle and patient with your approach. Perhaps, you may even surprise yourself.”_

_Solas peered at his old friend through his lashes. “You truly think that pursing her trust?” He asked, with a disquiet posture._

_Wisdom laughed. “Oh, dear sweet lethallin. Not her trust.”_

_Solas arched a brow._

_“Their trust,” Wisdom corrected._

“Their?” 

_Wisdom gave him a secretive sort of smile in reply._

_“You mean…the Inquisition?” Solas asked, but he has the strangest feeling that was not what Wisdom meant at all._

_“You’ll see,” was all Wisdom said before she was gone._

_Solas stared at the spot she vacated for several moments, and a sour taste swelled upon the back of his tongue. Was there another player in this game that he was not aware of? And why did Wisdom seem to think that they were worthy of trust?_

* * *

The faint sounds of night lingered in the back of her mind even after she had drifted into a deep sleep. Her first thought was somehow to find Ashlinn, to prove to herself that it was indeed her best friend, so she started shifting through the Fade. She moved through the ashes of a thousand broken dreams at a neck breaking pace, desperately grasping for some kind of link that would lead her to her friend. In the back of her mind, warnings went off. A little voice too distant for her to heed told her not to push too far, and get herself lost and weak. But it was too little, too late as the images shifted—too fast for her to catch—and then suddenly she was wandering down the street of her little home town. The starry sky was hidden by a dark overcast, and there was a chill in the air. Her mind felt fuzzy and tired and a dark silhouette appeared in front of her. “Solas?” 

“If you want me to be,” Solas’s velvety voice rolled out of the darkness and the silhouette stepped into the light. From head to toe, it was a perfect match to Solas, except the eyes. Instead of the blue gaze, the eyes here were jet black with a light ring of purple inside them. 

“If I want you to be?” Something tingled along her scalp. What had she been doing before now? She had been so tired and exhausted after trying to do something, and now her mind was left addled. 

Solas came closer, a knowing smile on his lips. “Touch me. I know you want to. I’ve seen the secret desire that you keep bundled up so tightly underneath that calm, distant exterior. You wonder what sex with a god like Fen’Harel would be like. It will be good for you, I promise.” 

Echo knew that there was a smidge of herself—alright, more than smidge—that found Solas attractive, but that wasn’t enough for her to have sex. She just wasn’t one of those people who could do no strings attached, and to be intimate required feelings for her. Echo as much as she liked to deny knew there was potential for said feelings—despite her fear of him—but she had known him all of three weeks, nearly a month. Feelings hadn’t developed yet, and with his secret, she really shouldn’t let them. “I shouldn’t,” she whispered out, her brows furrowed as she fought think against the haziness that wrapped around her mind like a spider web. 

“Submit to me,” he said. “And I’ll make the pain exquisite.” 

Echo’s eyes narrowed. While she had doubts about Solas’s intentions, she did not believe Solas had any intention of hurting her. At least, not at this time. “Solas would not hurt me.” 

“A wolf does not know how to be gentle. They are beasts of nature, and he will break you if you let him, but I can teach how to survive it. I can teach you to like it hard,” the mock Solas promised, dragging a palm down her chest before cupping her breast roughly. “I can teach you to crave the pain so you’ll be prepared for him.” 

“He would never push me beyond what I felt comfortable with,” Echo said, stubbornly. She tried to pull her body away from the imposter Solas, but her back hit a brick wall. She tried to pull the wards up around her mind, but she had spent too much of herself searching for Ashlinn. She had left herself open for an attack, and now would suffer for her mistake. Even Somnari had limits in the Fade. 

“Little fool,” it crooned, a desire demon no doubt. “He does not know how to _not_ hurt you. He will take you, and mark you, and claim you until nothing of yourself is yours anymore. It will be all _his_. You know deep inside you want this, and you want it to hurt. I will be Solas for you, and make you learn to hurt until you are begging for more.” 

“No. No,” Echo said, forcefully. She grasped at her mana, but tendrils of mist tightened around her limbs, draining her as surely as a templar’s smite. “Get out of my dreams.” 

“I am desire. I am made for dreams,” it laughed, cruelly. The mock Solas crushed a kiss to her mouth, pinning her face between his hands and she screamed against him. She jerked as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, and he tasted bitter and vile. She tried to shut her mouth, to close it, but he jammed his thumbs into the corner of her mouth, forcing her mouth to stay open to his assault. 

A blast of power rippled across the Fade—anger and outrage snapping with the crackle of lightning—and suddenly the desire demon Solas was off of her. Echo slumped to the ground, catching the flash of a blade and the desire demon fell to the ground decapitated. Its head rolled down the slope until the horn caught on something, and it lifeless face stared back at her. Before Echo could even process what had happened, she felt herself tugged away from the scene and was sitting, shaken like a leaf, on the couch in Ashlinn’s home. 

“Are you alright?” Ashlinn stood there, a wild gleam in her eyes and a sword in her unsteady hand. “I heard you calling, but I couldn’t find you. And when I did—” She gave a sharp shake of her head, and dropped the sword carelessly onto the floor, walking over to Echo. “Echo, are _you_ alright?” 

Echo’s heart felt like it was in her throat. She had gotten careless. She assumed because she was able to dream in such clarity that the Fade wouldn’t have bothered her, but she never took into account that it took stamina and skill to transverse freely without worrying about demon cloistering to come at her. She felt foolish and scared by what just happened, and that on top off all that happened in the waking world, Echo felt a cracking dam inside of her burst open with a flood of emotions. A sob was dragged out of her throat, but her jaw clenched in an effort to not release another sound. Echo looked up at Ashlinn through tearful eyes, her bottom chin quivered. 

Understanding softened Ashlinn’s eyes, and she reached out, wrapping her arms around her friend tightly. “It’s okay. I’m here now,” Ashlinn whispered out, softly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

The two sister—and that is what they were, blood notwithstanding—sat on the couch, and Ashlinn held Echo as if she were going to disappear. She was a link to a world lost and a friendship thought lost, too, and there were so many questions on both sides. Echo’s chest shuddered with a raspy breathe, and she was barely keeping herself from a complete breakdown. Ashlinn knew that she needed a distraction, and recounted, “Do you remember the time that we stole the McDougal boys’ clothes and hung them up in the trees in front of church?” 

Echo sucked in a sharp breath, her chest tightening with the first burst of panic attack, but it halted when she stared at Ashlinn in mild confusion. “You mean…” she licked her dry lips, and the tension in her shoulders eased ever so slightly. “You mean when they were skinny dipping down at the creek?” 

“Yes, unless there was another time you stole the McDougal boys’ clothes?” Ashlinn arched an amused brow. At the dry, flat look she received, she continued onward, “Do you remember them trying to get there clothes down before the Sunday crowd came out?” 

“Yes…” A hint of a smile form on Echo’s lips. “Scrambling about with skin so pale that it could blind someone, and I just remember the horrified scream that little jerk Toby gave when the crowd was let out earlier than usual. Also remember how he squealed when Pastor Higgins when after him with a yard stick. ‘You damned hooligans!’” She mocked the pastor’s harsh and brittle tone while putting on an over-exaggerated scowl. 

“Only time I ever heard a holy man curse,” Ashlinn smiled, but there was still a sense of worry in her gaze. She placed a light hand on Echo’s shoulder—to comfort Echo, and to remind herself that Echo was _real._ “How are you feeling?” 

“Does it matter? I have to find some way to be alright because to be other than is unthinkable,” Echo said, the look dropped from her face. Her mismatched gaze flickered across Ashlinn face, and there was a slight hesitance before she spoke again. “Is it really you? It feels like you, but…how are you here?” 

“I could ask the same of you,” Ashlinn said, with a sort of helpless confusion in her gaze. “I have been stuck in here so long, and I’ve seen spirits and demons that have tried taken your form. I never imagined that you’d be here, too, and I don’t know how, but I know that it’s you. You _feel_ like _you_ , if that makes sense.” 

“It makes sense to me,” Echo said, a little catch her voice. Her emotions still were white hot, and boiling beneath her skin, but turning towards Ashlinn, she could focus on something else. “Wait? Stuck in here? What are you talking about?” 

Ashlinn hesitated, and gave Echo a penetrating stare. “Are…are you not stuck in the Fade, too? I just assumed…” she said, trailing off after a long moment. 

Echo felt panic sear through her, and her hands clutched at her best friend’s arms. “I’m dreaming. I’m not actually here,” Echo said, her voice raising an octave and she stared at Ashlinn with open trepidation on her face. She couldn’t even comprehend being stuck here with demons and spirits. “You are _actually_ here?” 

“Not physically, no. My consciousness is stuck here,” Ashlinn breathed out, a slight tremble in her voice. Her blue eyes were wide, and filled with such confusion. “You are dreaming? How? Were you always able to come to the Fade when you dreamed?” 

“No,” Echo shook her head. She wasn’t even sure how to figure out this mess, and swallowed thickly. “I remember being in a car accident, and then I woke up in this tomb place. There was this guy named Hawke, who saved my life, but I wasn’t on Earth anymore. I was in a world called Thedas, and I’m an elf.” 

If such a thing were possible, Ashlinn’s eyes widened and darted to her ears. “Your ears are pointy. You have pointy ears. How the fuck did I miss that?” She stated, her tone completely astonished. She leaned forward, a flash of intrigue and perhaps a little envy crossed her face. “Thedas…you are actually on Thedas? Physically on Thedas?” 

“Yes,” Echo’s brow drew together, and her lips twisted downward. “How do you now of Thedas? Did you learn about it here in the Fade?” 

“Not exactly,” Ashlinn said, with a slight wince on her face. “It’s complicated. I started to have dreams about Thedas when I was teenager, and well, now I learn they weren’t just dreams, but it’s still too complicated to get into right now because you are fading, and I think that means you are waking up.” 

“No. Not yet,” Echo said, clinging to the Fade will all she had. Her mismatched gaze searched her friend’s sad face, and felt her heart quake from where it rested beneath her chest. “There are still too many questions. What do you mean had dreams of Thedas? How are you stuck in the Fade like this?” 

But the dream does not hold, no matter how hard she fights to keep it alive and all too soon she is staring up at the morning sky. It’s still dark indigo, but a pale shaft of light stirs on the eastern horizon. It took her several painstaking moments before she was able to push herself up off the bed roll. Messy tangles of hair hung in front of her face, and she reached up running her fingers through them, her head pounding terribly. An icy shard had been lodged inside of her heart, and nothing could melt it. 

She heard a rustle of footsteps, and looked up to see Solas knelt down beside her. She made a startled noise in throat, and attempted to lean away from where he crowded into her space, but then he caught her chin between his forefinger and thumb tightly. She flinched in surprise, and tried to pull it free, but he had a tenacious and unrelenting grip. “What are you doing?” She demanded with a fierce glower upon her face, and her fingers found purchase along his wrist. She could feel the strength there—subtle and unassuming, lying beneath the surface until needed. 

“You extended yourself far beyond your limits, and nearly unraveled your mind in the process,” Solas’s voice lashed across her face with all the force of a whip, and the edge of his jaw was clenched. His face was a mien devoid of all emotion, save for the quiet frustration that blossomed in his eyes. 

“How…” Her eyes widened. 

“Fractures tremble through the flow of your mana, visible to anyone skilled enough in the arcane arts,” Solas said, his eyes narrowed. “Did I not explain to you last night the repercussion of pushing yourself beyond your limits?” 

Echo bit her lower lip, and her hands curled into loose fists in her lap. “I thought…I thought I was alright. The Fade has never given me such trouble,” she explained, woodenly. “I did not expect searching it to…to wear me so thin.” 

Solas arched a brow. “Until now. Tell me, in all your journeys in the Fade have you ever tried _searching_ for anything before? It is not as simple as maneuvering about a library searching the selection of books. The Fade is a reflection of the reality you know, the places that you have encountered, and you must proceed with caution in a new environment. Not to mention, it takes a great deal of willpower to hold onto the memories or paths you find,” he stated, his posture uncompromising and severe. “Cassandra and Cullen may trust to an extent, but they have not forgotten you are a mage. Would so readily ignore the dangers and prove them right in their fears?” 

“Please, hahren. I’m not mood for a lecture.” 

“Perhaps I am in a mood to give one, da’len,” Solas retorted, sharply. “Tell me, what you encountered in the Fade?” 

Echo gave him a dark look. 

Solas was not deterred in the slightest. “You can either reveal it to me, or the Seeker. Your choice,” he stated, eyes flashed with a spark of ire. 

And he knew that there was no choice because while she respected Cassandra, she wasn’t about to reveal any disturbing encounters she had in the Fade. She didn’t want to be constantly shadowed like she’d become an abomination at any given second. She ran her tongue roughly against the inside of her cheek, and breathed deeply. “I was searching for something when a desire demon that looked like y…” Echo swallowed the words, pausing awkwardly as a flush stole into her cheeks and her eyes darted away from his face. “ _Something_. It took advantage of my weaken state.” 

“You should be lucky it was Desire that took interest, and not a greater demon such as Pride or Fear,” Solas commented, tone still clipped. “What did you intend to find in the Fade, Herald?” 

“My friend,” Echo said, knowing the reply was not one he would expect. 

Solas’s expression didn’t change, but the touch on her chin softened before it fell away. He looked surprised by her reply, and she felt uncomfortable underneath his gaze. 

“We should break camp,” Echo said, suddenly. Her head ached too greatly to, and her stomach was in knots over what Ashlinn had said in the Fade. If she was stuck in there…it wasn’t a fate she would not wish on anyone, and Echo was at a loss at what to do. She couldn’t leave Ashlinn in there. She knew she couldn’t, but she had no idea how to even begin to help her. 

And that was the craptastic beginning for the new day. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Please leave kudos or a comment to let me know what you think! :D
> 
> The encounter Echo had with Desire! Solas was inspired by a scene in the "Dragon Heat" by Allyson James. Just wanted to put a little disclaimer, just in case.


	5. The Things Lost to the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank, AEMoore, figmentz, Wobulator, AlwaysQuesting, dingo_dog, chaino425, millie435, for all the bookmarks!  
> I want to thank AEMoore, figmentz, Saquira, Wobulator, TelegenicLotus, Wellmadedust, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, auntjilly89, 13_Ravens, Ardis, 0102and03, cheshiire, Tandorri_Frost, Hexpixie, chain0425, KittyDragoness, WickedWitchoftheWilds, Elina, Hotpotato, UsakoAuditore, seraphem31, iner, maireh, and Silenceatemycat and the 17 guest who left kudos! You are all awesome!  
> I want to thank CileraDragonfang, and KittyDragoness for the comments! :D
> 
> Songs that Inspired this Chapter:  
> “Flaws” by Bastille
> 
> Again remember I do not go by the Hinterlands map on the game. The big areas such as Crossroad, Dennet’s farm, Winterwatch, and a few others will be cannon. But a few of the quests, or mentionable points of the Hinterlands will just me fudging as I go.
> 
> * * *

Chapter Five 

“The Things Lost to the Fire” 

* * *

The Hinterlands, Ferelden 

9:41 Dragon, Wintermarch

* * *

The morning sun gleamed across the glen as a gentle wind tossed the field of wheat to and fro, mimicking the movement of ocean waves upon the shore. A couple of baby fennecs were playing peek-a-boo with one another in the fields while the mother was curled into a ball, lightly dozing as the nearby rams nibbled at the grass. It was almost peaceful, but Echo couldn’t dispel the knot of tension that was coiled between her shoulder blades. A nauseating feeling of foreboding sloshed inside of her stomach, and her teeth sank into her lower lip. “So Catherine, what are your plans when we return to the Crossroads? I can’t imagine that you wish to follow us all about,” Echo started the conversation to fill the vacuum of silence that fell over the entire group. 

Catherine blinked, then smiled ruefully. “I’m not entirely sure. As much as I have enjoyed our trek together, I’m not much of a fighter and I think I would do better somewhere else than out in the midst of the war. I suppose I will help heal the refugees for a while, but I fear staying there.” 

“And why is that, Princess?” Varric asked. 

“I am mage. Apostate now. I fear my presence as a healer will only bring more attacks from the Templars,” Catherine said, lightly. “When the next group heads off to Haven I might go there.” 

“You want to join the Inquisition?” said Cassandra, mildly surprised. 

“Well, yes. It’s just…no one else is helping, you know? At first, when I thought of the Herald of Andraste, I just thought it was just a person as a figurehead for the Chantry to stomp every back into their place. But you aren’t. You are out here fighting and helping,” Catherine explained, her eyes darting to Echo’s back. “I don’t know if you are actually holy or not, but I know that you are good. I want to do good, too.” 

Echo absorbed that slowly, and wasn’t sure how to feel. A part of wanted to pleased that she was able to inspire people to want to stand up and do what was right. Another part of her just felt overwhelmed by the daunting responsibility that was. “Well, there are worse reasons to join the Inquisition,” she said, tossing Catherine what she hoped was an encouraging smile. The mage seemed a nice enough person, and the world needed more examples like Solas and Catherine to counteract the tales of bloodmage and mayhem that had been passed around for years. “I think Haven could benefit from an actual healer. We have Adan, but he mostly brews potions. Master Taigen was the resident healer, but…” Sorrow passed over Echo’s face and she let out a sad sigh. “He was lost shortly after the explosion to the following chaos.” 

“Uh, we might have company,” Varric warned, eyes narrowed against the sun. Up along the path sat a wagon off the side of the road, with a dying campfire right beside it. Bedrolls had been laid out, but were empty. 

“Refugees?” Solas guessed, with a frown. 

“Possibly,” Cassandra replied, her eyes searching the surrounding area for anything that felt off. “But let us approach with caution. Nowadays allies or innocents are not so easily discerned by sight alone.” 

Echo nodded, heeding the warning and approached the campsite with caution. With a hand on her dagger, she made her way around the back of the wagon, only to stop short at the sight of feet. Her eyes widened a margin and her heart thumped in her chest, she took two more steps to stare down at the body of a man who had been obscured from sight by the broken down wagon. It was still loaded with supplies, so it was not looters that attacked him. Judging from the scorched earth and dead Templar nearby this man had a bit of bad luck. His camp had become a Templar-Mage battleground, and his face was pale, lifeless eyes wide set in horror. His throat had been slashed ear from ear, and a bloody ruin had been drawn on the ground beside him. A sword lay beside him, just halfway out of the scabbard. He had tried to defend himself, but hadn’t even got chance to do so. “It seems a mage got desperate, and used this poor soul to cast blood magic,” Cassandra stated, with a weary shake of her head. 

“Maker help us,” Catherine whispered, sadly. 

“There are three bedrolls, but one body. This man was not here alone, so where are his companions?” asked Solas, his eyes swept over the area. His fingers tapped along the staff, and his blue eyes took note everything in the camp. 

“Maker only knows,” Varric said, in a deep voice. “Poor sods.” 

Echo swallowed, thickly. The smell of death was sharp and pungent lingering in the air with a bitter burst of magic. Blood magic that was born out of intent to hurt felt foul, and a person didn’t have to be a mage to feel the wrongness. It was like a stain upon a cloth, one that no amount of scrubbing could be rid of it. Running her fingers through her hair, Echo looked at the man with a regretful look. “We’ll make him a pyre before we leave.” 

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed, with a sharp nod. “We may not able to help him now, but we can at the very least see him to the Maker’s side.” 

Solas looked around the surrounding area with a wary frown. “Then we should build the pyre quickly. I would not suggest overlong for despite the body being cold, does not mean that the person responsible is not nearby.” 

“Well, on the bright side, we have a wagon,” Varric commented, after an awkward pause. 

Echo walked over the wagon, her eyes moving about it curiously. It was sturdy enough, despite the damage to the wheel and it had not been looted yet. “And some supplies,” Echo commented, peering into the sacks in the back of the wagon. One held flour, while the other two had some vegetables that looked still decent. “Though we won’t be able to get anywhere far on a broken wheel.” 

“Are we truly going to pillage the dead?” Cassandra asked, with a note of distaste. 

“Surely the living would make better use of the supplies than the dead,” Solas commented, with an eyebrow quirked upward. 

Echo ran her eyes across the splintered wood carefully, and gave a thoughtful frown. “Could we possible use magic to fix it and possibly use magic to haul it back to the Crossroads? I’ve seen Hawke to such things with magic before. Not anything as big as a wagon, but perhaps one of use could try?” She looked from Catherine to Solas questioningly, her head tilted the side. 

“I am not that well versed in force magic,” Catherine admitted, sheepishly. “I would probably make things worse if I tried.” 

“I could try, but…” Echo trailed off, uncertainly. 

“I shall do it,” Solas offered, with a sharp glance at Echo. 

Echo barely bit back a smile, and inclined her head. “All yours then.” 

Solas made magic look like an art form. It mattered not which school he chose to use; it looked effortless, the way he was so in tuned with his mana. The splintered would creaked, and moaned before it fitted itself together. The greenish glow stitched the wood back together on the smallest of levels, and Echo watched fascinated by it with wide eyes. When he was finished, she ran her fingers across the smooth surface of the wheel. The lingering magic made her fingertips tingle. “Nicely done,” Echo praised, impressed by how seamless his work was. 

“Thank you,” Solas accepted the compliment with a small smile. 

“Great,” Varric said, pulling Bianca off of his back. “Who’s up for a little hunting?” Echo shot him a little smile. 

* * *

There was something utterly soothing about hunting for her; the motions of it something tangible and familiar, like a port in the storm that one sought for shelter. Knelt down close to the ground that the damp musk of the foliage and earth flooded her senses, and her heart pounded as steady as the measured breath she drew in. She held her bow horizontally and with an arrow drawn back. She sat there underneath the shadow of a long leafed bush, and stared unblinkingly at her prey. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she held her breath, waiting to strike as the ram took one idle step further. Just one more step, and she’d have the perfect shot. 

It stepped forward, but before she could release the arrow, there was a mechanical click from nearby, and the ram cried out as a bolt struck it’s side. “Varric, you bastard!” Echo cursed, adjusting her aim as she heard the dwarf laugh. The ram stumbled in pain, and started to flee when Echo released her arrow. It hit the animal broadside. The ram stumbled another foot before letting out a low bleat before falling down the hillside. “I got the killing blow. That makes it two for me.” 

“And I have three,” Varric smirked, smugly. 

Echo pulled a face. 

“Must you two make this some kind of game?” Cassandra demanded, arms folded over her chest. She stood next to a crumbling stone wall that stood as a barrier between the road, and the fields in which the rams roamed. She didn’t look amused by their game in the slightest. 

“Oh, come now, Seeker. The sky is falling part, there is a mage-templar war. People have to find their entertainment where they can take it,” Varric smirked broadly. 

Cassandra made her disgusted noise. 

With Solas’s help, Echo lifted the ram into the carriage along with the others. Letting out a hard breath, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Five more to go, and then we should have plenty to bring back to the crossroads,” Echo whispered, more to herself than to Solas. 

“Yes. No refugee will starve tonight or for the foreseeable future if the meat is rationed well enough,” Solas commented, casually. “But that doesn’t mean the danger of that is dealt with. As long as the hunters cannot go out into the wilds without fear of attack, then eventually the refugees will find themselves back in the same position.” 

Echo looked at him, and then inclined her head after a long pause. “You’re right. We’ll have to deal with the Templars and mages soon,” she admitted, a queasiness spread through her heart like a blight. She made mental plans all inside of her head. They would return to the Crossroads tonight, and deliver the food then head out at first light to find this cult that had been stirring up a bunch of rumors. From what Cassandra said as they looked at the map earlier this morning, it would take half of the day to reach Winterwatch and if all went well, they could be back at the Crossroads by the next evening. From there, they could finally march towards the King’s Road and search out where the Templar and mages were hold up. If they couldn’t be reasoned with—which Echo didn’t believe they could be—then it was going to be an uphill battle. 

Drawing herself from her thoughts, she blinked and looked beyond Solas’s left shoulder. “Solas,” she whispered, a horrible feeling wrapped tightly around her throat, “is that from the pyre?” 

Solas turned, and saw the dark black plume of smoke that arose over the treetops in the distance. His expression went stony, and he gave a sharp shake of his head. “No. The pyre is to the south of us, and the smoke would not be great. I fear that is the burning of building,” he said, with jaw clenched. 

“Cassandra, Catherine, with me!” Echo shouted, grabbing their attention. “Varric, you cover Solas. With the wagon, he can’t move as fast as we can.” 

The group advanced through across the flat lands, Solas and Varric at least ten feet behind them because of the extra burden, and Echo could smell the smoke now. A sharp acidotic smell of pine wood with a hint of oil—some kind of accelerant, she guessed—that burned up her nostrils, and clenched her jaw tightly. An out cropping of rocks that divided the edge of the forest concealed whatever was burning until they came around the corner, and Echo blanched at the sight of the burning cabin. A dead Templar laid in front of the cabin door, impaled on a sword with the word ‘traitor’ written in blood on the front of his breastplate. 

“Help! Help!” The faint scream was barely caught over the roar of the flames, and Echo’s entire face drained of blood when she saw hands beating on the window. 

“There’s someone inside!” Echo shouted, rushing towards the blaze. Her boots crushed broken pieces of red pottery into smaller pieces, and bile rushed up her throat when she realized it was the same type of red pottery that oil was often transported in. She had been right this was intentional. 

“Help us, please!” 

Echo’s heart slammed into her throat, and ran towards the window. Her hands pressed against the whitehot glass. The door was encased head to in flames, it was no escape, but if she could get the window out of the way, she could help pull them through. Concentrating, she forced the ice to flow from her fingertips webbing out against the glass and fracturing it. “Hold on,” she said, loudly. “Just hold on!” 

Cassandra made her way to help the Herald when her eyes suddenly widened on the oil pots that had been stacked to the side of the cabin, with the fire already simmering around it. There was a hissing noise—the noise when oil was first ignited—and in a split second, the Seeker shoved Catherine back while she rushed forward. Securing her arms around Echo, she hauled the other woman up and spun around when a thunderous noise erupted followed by a shockwave of hot ashen air that propelled the forward into the ground. 

Her vision went completely jet black as white noise rang in her ears, and Echo tried to numbly push herself from the ground. Her head bobbed up and down, her entire body felt strange like she wasn’t quite inside of it when Cassandra’s hand came down onto her shoulder. “Herald…are you alright?” The Seeker’s voice was fuzzy and distant. 

Echo blinked up at the Seeker, her expression confused. 

It wasn’t until Cassandra gave her a good shake that the full reality came rushing back with all the noise, and Echo’s head jerked towards the cabin now engulfed by an inferno. The ear piercing shrieks of pain and agony were ones that would be forever branded into her mind. “N-no, no, I’m not,” was the shaky reply. 

* * *

The flames were extinguished by a combination of Solas and Catherine’s ice spells, but by the time the fire had been stunted it was already too late. The screams had died out minutes ago, and Echo sat with her back against a rock with her knees drawn up to her chest. She stared sightlessly out the beautiful plains that now seemed to mock her, and she felt dark emotions simmer in her gut. Blood trickled down her split lip, and her entire head pulsed with pain from hitting the ground so hard. Luckily, Cassandra’s quick thinking had spared Catherine and herself worse injuries. Solas and Varric had been far out of harm’s way. She glanced at Catherine who stood outside the cabin, looking down at the Templar with a worried expression on her face. Varric was pacing beside the wagon, Bianca in his arms and ready to fire. 

Solas and Cassandra went inside of the cabin, and Echo just sat here too numb to find the will to stand. She was grateful that the others gave her space. Maybe they sensed her frail state, but it wasn’t enough. Silence and space wasn’t enough to get rid of the anger that snaked through her veins. 

Cassandra was the first to approach her after the Seeker had inspected the inside of the cabin, and she knelt downward, offering Echo the waterskin. After Echo took it and she sipped lightly on the water, Cassandra said, with a weary and hesitant tone, “Apostates sought shelter in the cabin. It appears that they were attempting to hide out, until they could make leave of the Hinterlands for a safe place away from the conflict. And the Templars found them. One, who was either helping guard the mages or turn against them for their savagery, was slain and branded a traitor.” 

“Why didn’t the mages fight back?” Echo asked, putting the cork back into the waterskin. She pressed it back into the Seeker’s hand, and finally met Cassandra’s gaze. 

Cassandra’s throat bobbed, and she let out a harsh breath. “Likely the mages’ magic was suppressed, and the Templars started the fire, using the oil to hasten the flames into an inferno,” the Seeker stated, her voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t often that the warrior’s resolve was deeply shaken. 

“They set the rest of the oil pots on the outside of the house, didn’t they? They allowed them enough time to hope, but ultimately they were dead as soon as the fire started,” Echo said, roughly. 

“It appears so,” Cassandra stated, her dark eyes downcast. She shook her head side to side slowly as if to rid herself of the images of the bodies burned beyond all recognition. “Most of the mages died from smoke inhalation, or were unconscious when the explosion occurred. Their faces are…peaceful, and without agony. The…the young man that was awake showed signs of trying to stop the flames, but was either still weakened by the smite or not well versed in ice spells.” 

Echo gnawed on her thumbnail, and her pulse hammered along her jaw. “He was small. Shorter than me,” she said, lightly. The smoke obscured a lot of things, but not that. “How old do you think he was?” 

“Herald, I—” 

“Come on, Cassandra. You are observant. You have to be when you’re a warrior. You surely can estimate a young man’s age, now can’t you?” Echo’s flippant tone was counter by a storm brewing behind her mismatched. The blue one was dark a thunderhead and the green one looked as fathomless as the silent sea. 

The Seeker drew in a deep breath. “Thirteen annuals, at the very least.” 

“Thirteen…thirteen…” A sharp, bitter bark of laughter escaped from Echo’s mouth before she pushed herself onto her feet, and she looked at the cabin. The black charred wood still glowed—still hot—and it looked like how she felt on the inside in that moment. “Just a kid. He was just a fucking kid!” 

Her voice rippled across the group like a whip, and she felt them all turn to her, not that she cared to look back. Instead, she worked herself into frenzy. She paced back and forth, in five long strides—always five—and she tugged, pulling her ears as if that would get the sound out. As the scream would drop out, and just be silent. “And as soon as we put out the flames, we have put them back in them. I’m tired of burning bodies,” Echo said, hoarsely. Even a charred corpse could house a demon. “This isn’t how it should be! It just isn’t!” Her chest heaved with violent and wrathful breaths, and her hands clenched into bloodless fists that quaked at her sides. Tears filled her gaze as the sound of that panicked and agonized scream rattled in her head, played over and over in an endless loop. Echo let out a vicious cry, and kicked at the nearby wooden board in a childish fit of rage. 

“Herald,” Catherine’s eyes widened. 

“That is not my name,” Echo said, voice harsh and her eyes flashed. A fractured silence fell over the group, broken by intervals of the quiet pops and groans from the cooling wood. Her eyes turned away from them feeling too raw and bare in this moment. “Do you know what a tornado is?” 

“What is a tornado?” Varric asked, his tone careful. 

“It happens in the most severe thunderstorms. I never could find good documentation of anything of the sort here, so I’m assuming it’s not very often that a tornado happens,” Echo rambled, shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet. “If the conditions of a storm are just right, a tornado can be formed. A is a swirling vortex of wind that comes down from the clouds above, and can destroy anything in its path. The strongest have even leveled entire cities.” 

“Surely you are making that up,” Catherine said, with a frankly terrified look on her face. 

“No, she is not. I have heard of such things. Sailors have documented such things in the midst of hurricanes around the eye of the storm as they call it,” Cassandra said, with a frown. She was not sure why the Herald was taking about such right now. “Though those tales are very few, and far in between.” 

“Probably because most people who have seen one were never heard from again? Just hazarding a guess,” Varric grumbled, rolling the tension out of his neck. 

“They are horrible. The wind and rain suddenly go quiet, and the sky turns this greenish black. It’s like time has stopped, and the world is holding it’s breath. Then slowly it starts, this roar that gets louder and louder until it’s deafening, and then the wind returns, but this time it isn’t pushing. It’s pulling, and _pulling_ ,” Echo shook her head, a distant look in her eyes filled. It was like she was seeing something else up in the sky above, a memory from somewhere in her past. “You can’t fight it. You can’t run from it. You have to get to shelter and pray that it’s strong enough to endure the dark, rampaging monster that is tearing across the land, wrecking everything it touches and is unlucky enough to be in its path. And then all of the sudden, it’s gone. It’s not there anymore. You can’t go after it. You can’t make it put everything back. It’s just gone, and all you can do is sit there and think…that’s just not fair. 

“And that…that is what this war is. It’s unfair and it’s senseless. A rampaging monster with a different face,” Echo swallowed, the muscles along her neck corded with tension. “Brother slaughters brother, father abandons child, the entire world is gnawing at the bit to kill, and for what purpose? It is freedom the mages want? It is a real purpose the Templars seek? Or are those happy justifications that they tell themselves as they commit such atrocities? Where is the sense in this? I see none!” 

A nearby bird chirped, a contrast to the severity of the moment and Echo’s shoulders slumped. A couple of tears slipped down her cheeks, and she pressed her face into her hands. “The people who did this are gone. Just like the people who killed that man. There is a sea of dead bodies piling up behind these…these monsters and how are we supposed to stop them? How are we supposed to make things right if we can’t find them and stop them?” She demanded, wiping her hands down her face. “Are we supposed to find tracks? Chase them down?” 

“Even if we tried to track them down would it be worth the time? Others are suffering. You can’t fix this, but you might be able to spare the next,” Varric told her, with a look of empathy on his face. “It is a sucky situation, Mockingbird. Fear tends to bring the worst out in people.” 

“This is not fear, Varric,” rebutted Echo, her voice crumbled. “This is _ignorance_.” 

“You are right. The actions of these individuals are born from ignorance, but anger will not make the matters better,” Cassandra stated, her tone and expression surprisingly gentle. If anyone understood the struggle with her plight, it was the Seeker. “I, too, am burdened with rage by these atrocities committed in the name of freedom or in the name of the holy. In a perfect world, we would not be here. Innocents would not be slain, and only those true of guilt would be punished. Yet the world it not perfect. People are not perfect. 

“No matter what cause is championed, there will always those that will not hesitate to abuse for their own gain, but seeking vengeance against such individuals is not the way,” the Seeker continued, taking a step forward until she stood at Echo’s side. “We may not be able to stop every death, or every tragedy, but we can be there to right the wrongs. Not in the name of vengeance, but in the name of compassion and all that is just.” 

“The Seeker’s point is one well made,” Solas added, nodding his head at Cassandra. “To search out these villains will not bring you peace nor those that you intend to avenge, lethallan. Revenge is a white hot coal, you hold onto with the intent to throw it one day. It is you that will end up burned the worst.” 

Echo just stood there with a solemn expression, and heavy heart in her hands. She hated feeling helpless like there was nothing she could do, and maybe it was more raw for her because the Hinterlands was in a way the closest thing she had to home in this world. No one wanted to see such senseless death and destruct turn their beautiful home into a bloodied battleground. These poor people just wanted to wait out the storm, and instead got caught in the center of it. 

Catherine bit her lower lip before she spoke up. “My father said that when hard times come, and people are hurt, don’t be ashamed if you are overwhelmed. Don’t be ashamed that you feel too much because that means you still able to help, and do good.” 

Echo drew in a long deep breath. “Wise man. I apologize…I…” She trailed off, squinting her eyes against the gloom on the horizon in the form of grey rainclouds and straightened her spine. “Set up a pyre. We still have hunting to do, and we need to get back to the Crossroads.” 

“Mockingbird, if you need a minute…” Varric said. 

Echo gave a firm shake of her head. “No, Varric. I’ve had too many minutes. Let us…let us hurry, and get the refugees the help that they need, alright?” Her tone softened, and her hard expression melted into sorrow. 

“As you say, Herald,” Cassandra nodded. 

* * *

It was nightfall by the time they returned to the Crossroad, and while they were grim-faced and weary, they weren’t greeted by a rather jubilant Hunter Blaylock and refugees at the sight of the food brought to them. It lifted Echo’s dampened spirits, but not enough to soothe the ache within her chest. She soon left the joyful crowd, and found solace in an empty Inquisition tent. As she settled into the bedroll, Solas ventured inside. Apparently he was her bunk buddy tonight. 

Their eyes clashed for one white hot second, and an odd tingle worked its way down her spine. His speculative and intent stare seemed to see past her calm façade, and straight into her mind where warring emotions still bled like from an open wound. Despite her companions’ well-meant words, sorrow still clasped her heart in a tight vice and had only loosened in the most minimal of measurements. Echo rolled over, turning her back on him so that he could no longer see her face or her thoughts, and she buried her face into her arms. 

_Her descent into the dreaming world was not as smooth as the night before, but the fade welcomed her nonetheless, placing her upon a long cobblestone path that led to a great shadowy ruin on the hilltop that looked elvhen in design. The wisps that now surrounded the path were far more defined than the balls of light that she normally attracted. They were skeletal ghost cast in a fiery orange light that shimmered and flickered, vibrating with anticipation at her approach. Whispers of lost and half remembered tales reached her ears as if the wisps had been waiting for someone to come along so they may speak of these memories._

_She started up the path, eyeing everything with a great amount of caution. The incident with the desire demon still imprinted upon her mind, but she had a feeling that if she were set upon by demons then Ashlinn would ride to her rescue. She idly wondered where Ashlinn was right at this moment. Should she call for her? Ashlinn implied that is how she found Echo before, but hadn’t searching the Fade been what had gotten her in trouble before? The temptation was great because she wanted answers. How had Ashlinn got stuck in the Fade? How long had she been in the Fade? Those were the primary few, but she had much more. In the end, she stifled the impulse and just hoped that luck favored her enough that her path would cross her friend’s._

_A wisp came to a halt in front of Echo’s path._ “Please…please listen,” _the wisp spoke, it’s tone haunting like a whisper upon the wind._ “Please listen to my story.” 

_Echo blinked, bemused by the strange request. It was not often that a wisp gave such a desperate plea, and for nothing more than for someone to lend an ear. She could feel the wisp’s need to tell this tale, the great hunger it had to speak the words and she found herself rooted to the spot, watching it with wide and curious eyes._

“Night falls now, and I fear all is lost. We clung to our ways, clung to our Gods, and in their name we committed a horrendous act. We slaughtered the child, and place him upon an altar to be found. We could blame our Gods, say that we were given no choice,” _the wisp’s voice broken like a scratched record for a moment, before it continued,_ “but we had been given a choice. We had been given the choice of freedom, but we spurred it in favor of the false safety that their chains presented. As the blood runs cold in the streets, and our cities crumble, I stand in full acceptance of my fate. I have committed the worst sin. I have slain an innocent, and now I wait for the wolf’s teeth to tear into me deep.”

_A memory erupted through the streets, and Echo reeled back by the sudden explosion of noise and sound. Echo swallowed shakily, staring wide eyed at the destruction around her. The paved streets were filled with elves fighting one another, there were children crying, and people fleeing as the great golden tower crumbled and fell to the ground with an earthshaking force._

“And yet…the wolf’s teeth never come. It is chilling when I realize it was not out of kindness that the wolf has spared our lives, we who stayed faithful to our Gods,” _the wisp sounded frightened and so terribly saddened._ “The wolf spared us for one reason, and one reason alone…”

 _It was obviously a memory from the ancient elvhen empire, but she had thought that ancient Tevinter had slain the elves? Or had they just taken advantage of a crumbling empire? And the wolf that the wisp spoke of—was it Fen’Harel? Was it_ Solas _? She glanced at the wisp that lingered in her path, and knew that it had waited a very long time for this tale to be spoken. “And what was the wolf’s reason?”_

“Because our Gods would not.” 

_A low, rumbling growl caused her hair to stand on end, and the sensation of dread dragged across her skin like nails on a chalk board. Her breath shuddered across her dry and chapped lips, knowing that something stood behind her. A ball of pure fear swelled up in the back of her neck, and against her wishes, she found herself slowly turning around. The ruin was gone, and now she was standing in a forest full of darkness. Her eyes were so wide that it felt like they would pop out of her skull when she laid eyes upon the creature before it. Make of mist and shadows, a hulking form of a wolf—three time the size of a regular wolf—crept along into the broken moonlight that came down from the tree limbs above. Six blood red eyes watched her with an intense and unblinking gaze._

_The second their eyes clashed, the wolf snarled revealing a row of razor sharp teeth drenched in blood. Echo felt her heart seize inside of her chest, and she took a step backwards leaped, and the image shattered into a million pieces. The fragments glittered for a moment, like snowflakes cast against the bright sun, before they formed a scene of a gentle meadow with a river that cut through it and stretched out into the horizon. The smell of the morning dew perfumed the air, and made the grass glisten as if covered in jewels. Echo lifted her heavy head to look upon the opposing shore was veiled and blurred in fog, and a shadow moved forward. Echo felt her body tense, her mana sparking along the edge of her fingers and her breath stuttered when Solas came into sight—the real Solas, not a spirit in disguise. She wasn’t sure how she was able to tell it was him, her magic just seemed to recognize the feel of his, but what worried her the most right this second was one thing._

How much had he seen?

_“Solas…what are…how did you…” Echo fought to pick a question, one that would not show her alarm or wariness, but she could not find one. She had known that he was a fadewalker, but this was the first he dared to approach her in the Fade. “How long have you been here?” She blurted out, feeling the blood drain from her cheeks._

_Solas cocked his head to the side, and considered her for a long moment before he continued his slow and languid pace until he reached her side. “I saw nothing, lethallan, if that is what concerns you. I understand that a person’s nightmares and dreams are personal, and I did not invade your privacy,” Solas told her, his tone benign. There was a light furrow along his brow as his eyes observed her for any trace of ailment. “I merely felt your distress in the Fade, and while I could not see your nightmare, I was able to break it. I apologize if I have overstepped.”_

_Echo gnawed at her lower lip, her eyes searching his face for the truth of his words before she relaxed just a fraction. “No…I…I appreciate you dispelling it. I got caught up in a memory I fear,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. She believed he truly did not see anything, but the prickle of alarm did not disappear. She was still inside of the Fade, and from the stories, that was the Dread Wolf’s domain._

_“Oh?” His interest was piqued. “And what memory did you find yourself wandering?”_

_“A memory of war and death,” Echo replied, seeing no harm in divulging that much. She knew that Solas loved searching the Fade for memories—though sometimes she wondered when he spoke of the past which was firsthand experience, and which he actually did find in the Fade. “I suppose given all that has happened today that my mind was ripe for such dreams.”_

_“Our experiences in the waking world do often color what is drawn to us in the Fade, though it may be best if you take the time to erect better barriers. The ones that you had have been demolished, decaying like a wall against time,” Solas informed her, with a half-smile. “It appears that you haven’t taken the time to care for them.”_

_Echo gave him a strange look, brows furrowed. “I…was never aware that I had barriers in my mind,” she said, slowly. “Is that why the Fade has not bothered me until recently?”_

_“Ah. You did not know. I’ve seen natural barriers in a dreamer’s mind before. Given the wear of your recent experiences, and the change the mark no doubt has caused to your body,” Solas commented, though there was a slight hint of something in his voice. Curiosity, perhaps? “It could have easily caused such barriers to crack, and break.” He gestured beyond the scope of their vision, and Echo could make out forms that appeared human. With a sickening realization, she knew they were the forms of the poor souls burned in the cabin and the man on the path. “As you can see, the wards still guard you from the demons—”_

_“And the wards don’t function properly when I searched the Fade the other night?” Echo questioned, her tone light. She turned her gaze from the demons that lingered there, and tried to quell the churning sensation in the pit of her stomach._

_“Your wards guard an area in the Fade. A place where you may find sanctuary and solace, but such places have borders. You cross the border of your dreams, you are no longer in a place of your own making, and in a weaken state that made you easy prey for the desire demon,” Solas said, his hands clasped behind his back. His blue eyes moved from her face to the crumbling ruin, and an emotion too fast to catch passed over his features. There a split second pause before he continued to speak, “You wards are still of use, but as you can see the benign spirits were able to slip through the cracks.”_

_Echo wanted to point that the visage of the Dread Wolf had certainly not been benign in any sense of the words, but of course, that would raise alarm and suspicious where she desperate wished none to be. “They were rather eager to speak to me,” she commented, wrapping her arms loosely over her stomach. “The way they acted was like…like someone hadn’t talked to them in a long time. They craved the interaction, just simply to have someone to speak to.”_

_“Most spirits do. Sadly, with the tales of the Chantry that had bred fear, instead of well-meaning caution, when a spirit approaches a mage…” Solas gave a weary sigh, the edge of his mouth tilted downward in disapproval. “The incident more often than not does not go over well.”_

_Echo pursed her lips, her curiosity pressed her for answers about how much he knew about spirits, but she bit her straying tongue before it could release a syllable. “Crumbling wards,” she said, with a small shake of her head. “Another thing to add to my list of growing worries it seems.”_

_“Perhaps a lesson then? After all, I am to teach you the ways of the arcane to help better yourself against threats inside and outside of the Fade,” Solas offered, his tone reasonable and reassuring._

_Echo didn’t answer right away. Even a fool would be wary of such an offer, especially given that she did not know what it all entailed. Her heart fluttered in her throat, and her lips parted ever so slightly, though she wasn’t quite sure which word she meant to form when a voice called out from behind her, “Echo?”_

_Echo turned automatically, and saw Ashlinn descending the stairs that led to the battlements. Her friend was taking them three at a time with no regard to slowing down or safety. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Solas shift forward—curious? Wary?—and Echo’s heart tightened into a knot inside of her chest._ Oh, God. What do I do? _The thought rushed through her mind._

_Ashlinn came to a slow halt about five feet away from them, her eyes narrowed slightly on Solas as if trying to divine who or what he was. “Echo, I didn’t realize that you had a friend. Is this a bad time?” She asked, with a look at Echo._

_Echo knew that it was Ashlinn’s way to ask if he was friend or foe, and sadly, Echo didn’t have a good enough answer._

_“You…are not a spirit. Nor a mage,” Solas said, squinting at Ashlinn with undisguised interest. It was like he was presented with a new piece of a puzzle, and he viewed the new arrival like a scientist would a bug under a microscope. “How is that you came to be here?”_

_“That’s…that’s a long story,” Echo’s voice wobbled, her wide eyes swept from Solas to Ashlinn, a tremble tapped down her spine, and before she could help herself she found herself stepping between the pair of them. An instinctual movement to protect her friend from the possible threat that Solas could be, and the instant she did it, she saw a change in Solas. A look that said she had just confirmed a silent suspicious and her heart gave a painful pinch when his expression went cold and distance. His blue gaze was piercing with the heat of silver flames that swept across her face, scorching in its intensity and while alarm boiled in her blood, so did a sense of guilt that she could not shake._

_“The friend you were looking for, da’len?” Solas questioned, his tone flat and even. His posture could almost be mistake relaxed if it were not the way his shoulders were bunched with tension._

_“And if I am?” Ashlinn said, her tone cautious. She could not have missed the flash of a panic that crossed Echo’s face, and took two measured strides until she flanked Echo. Her wary and unblinking gaze fixated on Solas as she quietly took her cues from Echo._

_But Solas did not confront Echo. He was too intuitive, and knew he was dealing with fire and if he was not carefully then he would not only be burnt, but the flames would consume both of them, and the entire world as well. His gaze flickered to Echo then down at the mark that was still imprinted on her even here, and Echo felt too exposed to him in that moment. His gaze was so rapt and opaque, as if he were observing her like a scientist observed something under a microscope, and trying to figure out what exactly made her tick. “It seems I must apologize. Had I known that you came into the Fade intending to receive a visit from your friend, I would not have invaded your space,” he stated, his tone rather aloof._

_Echo hesitated, but for all new reasons. She could see the mask that Solas wore hardened upon his features, and feel him distancing himself. For some reason, she wanted to salvage this moment and not end on such a horrible note. She didn’t know why she had this impulse, and it made things a lot more complicated in her mind. “Well, you did save me from a nightmare so I am rather grateful for your interruption,” she commented, breathlessly. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and her eyes remained steady upon his expression._

_“Indeed?” His brow ticked upward. “At any rate, I shall endeavor to be more mindful of your…privacy, da’len,” he said, his tone so painfully polite that it made Echo’s stomach clenched unpleasantly. “Take care how you spend your remaining time here. Dawn approaches quickly.”_

_And like that he was gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Echo’s Reaction to Death: It’s been building up inside of her for a while now. You have to remember that Haven and the Hinterlands are two very important places to her, so the impact of seeing death there hits her hard. It’s the death of the thirteen years—a teenager, or child depending on POV—is what sends her over the edge. Echo is quick to temper, and slow to forgive.
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> Tornadoes: As you know tornadoes are more common place in the USA than over in Europe, and that is because the conditions of cold air coming down from the north and the warm air coming from the south, hit right in the center of the US where the mountain ranges are. The mountains funnel the two air currents together creating massive storms, the worst that are capable of creating tornadoes. That area is known as Tornado Alley. Tornadoes can and do happen anywhere, but whereas Tornado Alley gets at least a thousand tornadoes over a year somewhere like Italy only gets fifteen a year. So I’m going with the assumption that Orlais and Ferelden’s climates are such that tornadoes don’t form on a massive scale, and since news isn’t instantly available to anyone through a phone or computer, but travels through word of mouth or letters—most people haven’t heard of tornadoes. And if they have, they would likely not believe such tales unless they saw them with their own eyes.  
> Please also if you live in areas that prone to tornadoes have a Disaster Kit: First Aid Kit, Water, Can Opener, Canned Food, Duct Tape, Batteries, Flashlight, Sugar, Salt, Granola Bars, Toothpaste, Bleach. (Note that this the most basic of disaster kits. You can find more disaster kits online.)
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> Force Magic: the idea of this really came from the moments in the game where the characters could craft makeshift bridges or block the darkspawn entrances. It’s not so much as spells like the offensive or defensive magics available in the game. In my theory it could be branched out and used for a great deal more than the game allowed.
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> My theory on Force Magic: Kinetic energy of an object is energy that possesses due to its motion. It is defined as the work needed to accelerate a body of given mass from rest to its state of velocity. Having gained this energy during its acceleration, the body maintains this kinectic energy unless its speed changes. A mage takes their mana, which is a type of energy, and place it on an object. This gives the object kinetic energy controlled by the caster, and therefore they are able to create bridges out of broken logs, or seal up darkspawn tunnels. Understand also that I’m not a scientist, and I’m just creating a fan theory with the knowledge I remember from high school and what I’ve looked up online.


	6. Paved With Good Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank, Jade_Blanc, AEMoore, figmentz, Wobulator, AlwaysQuesting, dingo_dog, chaino425, millie435, for all the bookmarks!  
> I want to thank Polli, Jade_Blanc, mid_2_Knight, DragonBaby2559, Brie88, AEMoore, figmentz, Saquira, Wobulator, TelegenicLotus, Wellmadedust, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, auntjilly89, 13_Ravens, Ardis, 0102and03, cheshiire, Tandorri_Frost, Hexpixie, chain0425, KittyDragoness, WickedWitchoftheWilds, Elina, Hotpotato, UsakoAuditore, seraphem31, iner, maireh, and Silenceatemycat and the 22 guests for all the kudos! You are all awesome! :D  
> I want to thank Brie88, DragonBaby, CileraDragonfang, Jade_Blanc and KittyDragoness for the comments.  
> Chapter Inspired by:  
> “The God That Failed” by Metallica  
> “Fire” by Barns Courtney

Chapter Six 

“Paved With Good Intentions”

* * *

_A cold air whipped through the Fade, savaged and unwelcome. It cut through the fabric of her clothing, and burrowed deep into the marrow of her bones. Something inside of her clenched tight while something else felt shaken loose, and Echo could not make sense of anything besides the guilt that flooded through her soul. The harsh wind that danced through the ancient ruins were stifled by wooden walls, and now her cabin in Haven surrounded them. Yet the familiarity of it’s comfort was absent as Echo stared at the empty spot where Solas had occupied only moments ago, and then dropped her head into her hands with a heavy groan. Anxiety wrapped around her like a thick blanket, and was suffocating, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her midsection. “Oh, that was…”_ Bad? Stupid? Any other adjectives that I’m missing? _Echo thought, miserably._

_“That was certainly_ something _,” Ashlinn commented, a peculiar expression on her face. Her blue eyes raked around the tension that ran along Echo’s entire body, and her lips dipped downward into a light frown. “And that something has really upset you, hasn’t it?”_

Fuck, it really does, _the thought never passed through her lips, but Echo couldn’t hide the dismay that shined in her eyes. Solas always wore a mask, a carefully constructed humble façade, but sometimes, it slipped. When he spoke of magic and the Fade, there was a genuine enthusiasm and a lightness that cast the shadows away. It those moment, Echo felt like she was seeing a glimpse of the hidden depths that Solas had, but she saw whatever insight she had gained with him shut down in a split second. A hardness had appeared in his eyes before he disappeared from her sight, and she had put it there. It made her heart hurt in ways that she hadn’t realized it would, and she rubbed her knuckles anxiously up and down her arms._ And now I have no fucking clue what do now. Apologize? Can I mean it when I am still suspicious of him? Can I undo the damage I just did? Or should I ever attempt to? 

_“Do you want to talk about it?” Ashlinn asked, after a moment._

_“No…yes…” Echo blew out a breath. “That’s…a really long story,” she said, turning to face her friend. Her jaw trembled slightly, and the pulse in her throat jumped sporadically. Her mind replaying the image of the wolf about to devour her, and then Solas expression there at the end. They overlapped and slowly morphed into one, but at the same time, the images couldn’t be further contrasts of each other. “And way too complicated to get into right now.”_

_“Ah.” The trace of amusement became a somber stare, and Ashlinn searched her friend’s face carefully. “You know if you don’t tell me exactly what’s going on then I can’t help. I mean, I can’t do anything more then lend an ear and offer sound advice, but I’ve been told I’m pretty good at those so…” Her lips quirked into an impish smile, and she gave a light shrug of her shoulders._

_Echo wished that it was as easy as laying her problems at Ashlinn’s feet, and having Ashlinn give her a magically answer that would solve all her worries. On paper that might sound like a good plan, but in reality, it would fall short of the mark. “I’d rather talk about you,” Echo said, diverting the subject away from herself. “After all, I would say that being stuck in the Fade is the bigger problem here.”_

_“I see what you did there,” Ashlinn said, with a knowing smirk._

_Echo blinked, innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”_

_“Fine. If a change in subject is what you need,” Ashlinn commented, letting Echo know she hadn’t been fooled in the slightest by her nonchalant attempt to steer the conversation far away from the mage Solas, “then I will provide it. Though I’m sure there are more pleasant topics that we could talk about other than my unfortunate predicament. I can say that my time here has been a real joy. There has been bright spots, but for the most part terrifying and dreary. It’s not exactly the kind of gossip we are used to trading.”_

_“We are talking about it, no matter how dreary it is. I have been worrying myself sick about you being stuck in here faced with Maker knows what,” Echo told her, tone as sharp as the edge of a knife. Her arms were folded tightly over her chest, and her eyes were narrowed into slits. “You aren’t going to dance yourself out of this one, and I intend to have some kind of answers before I join the land of the living again.”_

_An indention appeared along her furrowed brow, and she pursed her lips for a long second. Reaching up, she rubbed her tired eyes and then asked, “Alright, Echo. I’ll try to answer your questions, but I make no promises because I still have a hard time making heads or tails of my situation, let alone have to explain it to someone else,” Ashlinn said, with a firm an decisive tone of voice. The light that was in her blue eyes dimmed with gathering shadows, and she sat down in the wooden chair, crossing her legs one over the other before she looked up at Echo expectantly. “Ask away.”_

_Echo frowned, thoughtfully. She turned her gaze to the fireplace, the heat of it comforting and soothing. “We’ll start with a semi-easy one. How the hell do you know about Thedas?” The elvhen woman said, perhaps a little too vehemently if the shock on Ashlinn’s face was a good indicator. Clearing her throat, she repeated it, with a more calm tone, “How do you know about Thedas?”_

_“And you call that an easy one,” Ashlinn huffed, wearily._

_“I could ask the origins of your stay here,” Echo countered, not amused._

_Ashlinn gave her a deadpanned look before she rolled the tension from her shoulders, and settled back against the chair. “It’s just…it’s just going to upset you,” Ashlinn told her, lightly. She rubbed the back of her neck nervously before she wrapped her arms loosely around her midsection. She gave a rueful kind of smile at Echo, and a light shrug of her shoulders. “I started having dreams about Thedas when I was a teenager. I dreamt about this whole other life that I lived, and there were so_ real _and_ defined _like no dream I had ever dreamed before. They were something special, I knew that. So much more than a regular dream, but I never believed for an instant that they could actually be true.”_

_Echo stood there, as still as a statue and felt like she had been dumped in a vat of ice cold water. She shook from head to toe, absolutely unable to process what she had just heard. She shook her head a couple of times, before her expression twisted. “You never told me,” Echo said, looking wounded. The admission felt like a punch to the gut, and all the air rushed out of her lungs making it hard to breathe. “We are best friends. We promised to never keep secrets from each other, and you never told me.”_

_“Echo, it wasn’t like that,” Ashlinn said, with regret in her eyes._

_“Then what was it_ like _?” Echo asked._

_Ashlinn looked down at her feet, and expelled a sigh. “I was afraid to tell anyone about them because I thought they would try, and make me feel crazier than I already felt. And I needed my dreams,” she admitted, with a quake in her voice. “I was in a dark place then, and they were my lifeline through it. If I told someone I was afraid they would make me go to the doctor, and make me take medicine to stop them. Or worse, a thousand volts to the head.”_

_Echo jaw trembled, and her stomach was filled with knots. The explanation should have eased the hurt, but even understanding Ashlinn’s fears, she didn’t understand why Ashlinn didn’t confined in her. She would have never accused her of being crazy, or told anyone. Swallowing thickly, she shook those thoughts away. She would deal with her feelings later, but her feelings weren’t the main focus here. She needed answers from Ashlinn, and needed to understand what was going on. She could be hurt about it later._

_“But I didn’t want them to stop. I loved my dreams,” Ashlinn continued, after a pause. Her jaw worked up and down, and then her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips. She looked away, hiding the painful memories swirling in her eyes. “They were my escape during a very bad time of my life.”_

_Echo frowned, deeply. She knew exactly the moment that Ashlinn was talking about. She recalled a time when Ashlinn’s smile wasn’t as bright as it usually was, and the light in her eyes dimmed, consumed by a shadow. She had never pushed because she always assumed that Ashlinn would confide in her. Yet Ashlinn hadn’t, and it was always something of a stain on their friendship._

_“And I need something that was just mine during that time,” Ashlinn said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes looked distant as if she saw something that she didn‘t particularly like, and then she blinked hard. Her eyes cleared, and whatever shadows of the past faded away. “I’ve got no other defense than that.”_

There’s more to it than that, _Echo wanted to snap, but she held her tongue fast. No matter how hurt her feelings may be, Ashlinn didn’t deserve to be yelled at and Echo knew she’d regret anything she said in the heat of the moment. Pressing her closed fist to her lips, Echo paced the floor of the cabin. The silence consumed the room, and bore down upon them, unrelenting in its force. Her lungs filled with a deep breath, and she slowly released it between quivering lips. “What was your dream life like?” Echo wondered, a tad curious._

_Ashlinn paused, fiddling with the end of her tunic. “That’s a bit of a loaded question. If it had been truly just a dream, then…then it probably would be easier to give you an answer. But it wasn’t just a dream,” she said, her eyes fixated on Echo worriedly, waiting her reaction._

_“What do you mean it’s not a dream? You said—”_

_“I said I never could had believed the possibility of it being true. I still have trouble with comprehending that it was real, but once I found myself in the Fade, I had to come to grips with the reality of it. It still wasn’t the easiest pill to swallow, even when it was explained to me how such a thing was possible, but I couldn‘t fight it. It would have been like running against the current, and I couldn‘t risk doing that when I had some wishing for me to drown,” Ashlinn murmured, with a tight expression. It slipped away after she dragged her hands down her face, and tilted her head to the side. “Is it so unbelievable? I mean, take a look at yourself. You are in Thedas now. Is it really so hard to concede that I was once there, too?”_

_“Touché,” Echo acknowledged, with a slight nod. A self-deprecating smile crossed her face, and she gave a light snort. A knot in her chest loosening ever so slightly, and her shoulders dropped. “If I can be an ancient elf that awoke from sleep, after apparently living a life on earth, who’s to say you couldn’t have a past life in Thedas before being reincarnated on earth?”_

_“Wait, wait,” Ashlinn said, with a startled laugh and eyes widening. “You are an ancient elf? Like from before Tevinter and all that?”_

_“I woke up in an ancient tomb. I didn’t get to look around for any specifics that would probably have helped to give me a little more information on my situation. The tomb flooding, and I really didn‘t want to drown. The giant spiders were hungry and pissed. It was_ lovely _,” Echo replied, with a healthy dose of sarcasm on the last word._

_“Oh, God, I’ve always hated the giant spiders!” Ashlinn blurted out, with a chuckle._

_“I know, right? Why do they need to be that big? What kind of benevolent Maker makes giant killing machines with pincers and eight legs?” Echo laughed, with an animated wave of her hand. “I mean, I guess they can’t crawl into you bed roll when they are that big.”_

_Ashlinn shuddered, making a face. “Ugh. I’m never going to live that down, am I? I was eight,” she said, with a light huff. There was no true annoyance in her voice, and an embarrassed smile pulled at the corners of her lips._

_“No, you’re not. You running through the camp, tossing off your clothes and screaming about a spider at the top your lungs was priceless. I‘ve never seen camp organizers so speechless,” Echo smiled, broadly._

_Ashlinn just shook her head, fondly. The lightness that she always exuded seemed to have returned, the bright smile that lit up a room. There had been a haunted quality to Ashlinn ever since Echo first encountered in the Fade. A look on her face as if seen into the dark heart of the world, and was traumatized by the truth of it. A shadow that would forever remain on her soul, but in this moment, it was eased. “It’s a little strange though, isn’t it?” She commented, with a pensive smile on her face. “Both of us having a life on Thedas as well on Earth, and the fact that we just happen to know one another?”_

_“It does seems a little too big of a coincidence, I’ll admit,” Echo said, scratching the end of her chin. Her hand dropped away, and she finally sat down on the edge of the bed, with her palms face down at each of her sides. “But it can’t be any more than that, can it? The very thought is…” Echo trailed off, her brows pinched together. It was an inconceivable thought to believe it more than mere coincidence, but something heavy settled in the pit of her stomach like a stone._

_“Disturbing?” Ashlinn offered. “Troubling?”_

_“Like a hamster running on a wheel for someone else’s amusement,” Echo said, flatly. “To put aside coincidence would to put belief into the fact that there is a reason behind it, and if there is a reason behind it…does that make it planned? Or fate?” She tapped her fingers across her left temple, and she felt a chord inside of being struck. Fear hummed through her, and she didn’t like to give life to such a possibility. “I have had enough of ‘fate’ as it is.”_

_Ashlinn gave her a curious look, and then her eyes flared wide. “What is on your hand?”_

_Echo blinked, and looked down at the mark that flared upon her hand. “Oh…that,” she whispered, her face twisted in a grimace. It hadn’t been there in her other encounters with Ashlinn. Perhaps, she subconsciously thought to conceal it. “It’s a mark.”_

_“Yes, I can tell and a magical one at that,” Ashlinn commented, dryly. Her gaze sharpened on Echo, and the concern was unmistakable on her face. “Why is it on your hand?”_

_“I have no fucking clue,” Echo groaned, miserably. “It just sort of happened.”_

_“A magical mark just _happened_?” Ashlinn said, skeptically._

_Echo felt something release in her like the dam being opened, and words like water started flooding from her mouth. “Yes! There was a Conclave where leaders of the Templar group and Mage group came to speak of a possible peace in the presences of the Divine to bring end to the Mage-Templar War—”_

_“Mage-Templar War?” Ashlinn repeated, faintly._

_“—then something went terribly wrong, and there was an explosion that ripped a whole in the sky, and demons came pouring out from it, and several rifts all over Thedas—”_

_“Demons? Rifts?” Ashlinn’s voice rose a notch._

_“And put the mark on my hand,” Echo finished, with a great breath. She hadn’t been able to vent or outwardly show her frustration in the waking world about the burden laid upon her. Instead, she held it back fiercely in an attempt to put on a brave face, but her mask had begun to crack. More and more each day, and in this moment, she allowed the mask to fall because if she tried to keep it up then it would surely shatter. “There were no survives from the Conclave, save a dwarf who had the same mark on his hand. He was struck down by a Pride demon, and I…absorbed the mark off of his hand and added it to my own. My mark also is the only means of sealing rifts all across Thedas, and the only way to seal the Breach in the sky permanently.”_

_A strange and peculiar look crossed over Ashlinn’s face, and she rose out of her seat, the floorboards creaked beneath her feet. “So let me see if I have gotten the picture here right. There is a conflict between the mages and the Templars? An outright war? I have heard some things in passing about the Circles being disbanded, but I had hoped—” She shook her head as if to dispel whatever naïve notion had been on top of her tongue, and her somber expression hardened as she began to move about the cabin floor like a lion caged. “So the tension finally snapped, and things turned sour incredibly fast taking everyone by surprise though it should hardly be such. The Conclave was an attempt at peace, but someone intentionally sabotaged it. They wanted to make quite the statement by tearing a hole into the sky, and if demons were pouring out of it then it must have been a hole into the Fade. How am I doing so far?”_

_“Um, good?” Echo replied, not all that certain she should. She knew Ashlinn’s moods well enough to know that something was off with her friend, but she wasn’t entirely sure what._

_“You say the _Breach,”_ Ashlinn’s flickered towards Echo, and she continued after the elf nodded, “needs to be permanently sealed. So it is temporarily sealed, and you are seeking a way to do that?”_

_Echo looked faintly bemused. “How do you know that?”_

_“Let’s just say I know how this dog and pony show works. If you are the only one with the mark, people are going to look to you as their salvation against the forces that threat to spur the world further into chaos than it apparently already was,” Ashlinn sighed, crossly. Her lips puckered like she had sucked on a lemon—“Without peeling it,” as Merrill like to say—and she gave her neck a pop by twisting her head slightly. It released some of the neck out of Ashlinn’s shoulder, but did little to improve the dark cloud that brewed over her head. “What year is it? In Thedas, I mean?”_

_“9:41 Dragon,” Echo answered._

_Ashlinn reeled back, as if the words had struck her like a punch to the gut. She seemed to teeter on her feet for a second before she straightened, becoming stiff and unmovable as the impassive mountains. “Ten_ fucking _years,” Ashlinn hissed through clenched teeth. There was something terrible in Ashlinn’s expression, something so agonizingly close to anguish like she had just been physically gutted and there was anger there to. An angry resigned light burned behind those blue eyes. “That’s how long it takes for a world to fall apart.”_

_Echo felt a pang flood through her, and she wished she knew how to reach out to her friend. Yet something told her that this wasn’t her wound to fix, but she couldn’t stand there doing nothing. “Is that how long ago you were in Thedas?” She asked, curiously._

_“Yes.”_

_Echo was confused. “Ashlinn, how is that possible? If you died ten years ago on Thedas, then how did you live over twenty on Earth?”_

_“Fuck if I know,” Ashlinn replied, abrasively. “I don’t know how this whole reincarnation thing works, or what the rules are to it. I’m just trying to muddle through this mess the best I can, and keep my head above water.”_

_Echo knew that type of confusion all too well. The look on her face softened at the defensive way Ashlinn stood as if she were swarmed by invisible enemies from all sides that only she could see, and a heavy knot built in the back of Echo’s throat. She hated seeing her friend like this. “What was your past life like?” She asked, gently._

_Ashlinn’s jaw trembled, and finally she raised a watery gaze to meet Echo’s. “It was wonderful…and terrible. It was filled with life, love, death and sadness in equal measure,” she answered, clearing her throat. She wiped away the tears that gathered in her eyes, and sniffled. “And it all ended with the Blight.”_

_“You died in the Blight?” Echo said, feeling the air rush out of her lungs. The Blight was a terrible disease and plague that scorched the land leaving it barren and was herald and spread by the fiendish creatures known as the darkspawn. She knew that the Fifth Blight had been over fairly quickly because of the Hero of Ferelden, but that didn’t not mean it came without cost. Villages had been ravaged and forsaken, and the bodies of countless dead never recovered._

_“Something like that,” Ashlinn whispered, tonelessly. She stared off into space for a moment or two, as if mentally recalibrating from all the things that she had learned. Suddenly, a rueful smile curled her lips and her shoulders shook with a repressed laugh._

_Echo arched a brow. “What are you laughing about?”_

_“Us,” Ashlinn replied, with a sharp laugh. She shook her head, her dark mane swishing back and forth around her shoulder. “I was just laughing at us. We are so…shitty at being vulnerable and letting our guard down. Even now, we are dancing around the issues. Just scratching the surface because to dig anymore would _hurt_ or leave the option for hurt to happen, so we just give the basic facts and sail on by like it’s all alright.”_

_Echo felt her own amusement bubble up within her, despite the harsh truth in Ashlinn’s words. They did suck at being vulnerable, and replaying the conversation in her mind, she could see what Ashlinn meant. Sucking a deep breath, she bowed her head slightly and the slight smile dropped off her face. “They call me the Herald of Andraste,” she said, her tone quietly. “One half reveres me like I’m some kind of demigod while the other half is waiting for an excuse to cut me down, and I’m caught in the middle of this great power struggle being a figure head for the Inquisition.”_

_Surprise flickered in Ashlinn’s eyes. “Inquisition?” Her brows so high that if they rose any further they would disappear into her hairline. “There hasn’t been an Inquisition since the time of Emperor Kordillus Drakon’s time, and while it’s been only mentioned in the time thereafter, it was only seen as a baseless threat when the Templars or Mages became too unruly. Usually, the Exalted March was the Chantry’s preferred way of _dealing_ with their problems,” she said, with a scathing tone. It was clear she heavily disapproved of the Chantry’s methods. “Calling an Inquisition would bring much scrutiny upon all, even the Chantry. Something they couldn’t risk happening._

_“But…shit, being heralded as the world’s savoir,” Ashlinn’s brows furrowed into a tight knot, and she gave Echo a look of pity and understanding. “That’s a weight I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. Especially not my best friend.”_

_Echo snorted. “Well, it seems that neither of our wishes matter.”_

_Sadness and concern came off of Ashlinn in waves, and the dark haired girl approached the female elf. She enveloped her into a tight hug, and she whispered, softly, “Please tell me you aren’t facing this alone. Please tell me that this Inquisition is backing you, and you have friends on your side.”_

_“I’m…not alone.” Not physically, but sometimes, emotionally she felt like it. “The Inquisition is filled with good people, and while I don’t know all of them, I find myself trusting the leaders of it. And I’m not alone facing demons and rifts. I have a group of…companions,” she said, as Ashlinn broke the hug and allowed Echo the space that she needed. “There’s Cassandra, a Seeker and the former Right Hand of the Divine. She’s a good warrior, and…is compassionate despite her prickly and abrasive nature. I can’t call her a friend because we honestly haven’t known each other that long, and as a mage, it’s not easy to trust someone who’s occupation is almost similar to a Templar.”_

_“You’re a mage?”_

_“Yes,” Echo nodded. “What about you? Were you a mage?”_

_“Nope. Noble,” Ashlinn said._

_“Ah. Lucky.”_

_Ashlinn opened her mouth to say something, then it shut with a snap. Whatever she had been going to say, she obviously thought better about in. “Your other companions?” She asked, instead._

_“Catherine is a mage who was part of the rebellion, but when her compatriots started massacring innocents, she fled from them. She was trying to find a safe place when she ran into Templars. We saved her before they could do real damage,” Echo explained, shifting to face the fireplace. The heat was almost too unbearable so close to the flames, but she needed the heat to chase away the cold air of uncertainty that prickled along her skin. Ashlinn was right. The weight of the world was a heavy mantle, and Echo didn’t think she could bear it much longer, even with people at her back. “She’s been traveling with use ever since.”_

_“Picking up strays,” Ashlinn said, amused. “We always were the type to do that.”_

_“If I recall, it was always you who had a fondness of strays. I still remember when you brought home the box of baby opossums,” Echo chuckled, lightly._

_“Their mother was dead on the side of the road, and they were going to starve,” Ashlinn said, with a prim tone as she sniffed haughtily. “I couldn’t leave them there by themselves.”_

_“Uh-huh.” Echo looked like she believed that. Not. “And then there’s Varric. Even though it’s been a few years since I was in Kirkwall, he is still a valued friend and one I would trust in a heartbeat. He’s… I’m not sure that I could sufficiently describe Varric to you in way that would do him justice. He’s a dwarf that works for the Merchant’s Guild, and has managed to navigate through that political hell relatively unscathed. He is also cutthroat and a rogue with a bigger heart than he likes anyone to know about. He has a silver tongue that could have you agree to almost anything before you realize what he has pulled you into. His chest hair is glorious and magnificent that if you listen closely as he walks through a crowd, you’ll hear breast bands unravel and panties drop.”_

_Ashlinn outright laughed at the description. “He sounds like quite the character,” she said, with a broad grin._

_“He’s also a writer,” Echo added, with a small smirk._

_“A rogue and a writer with a penchant for trouble? A man after my own heart,” Ashlinn smiled, some of the worry eased out of her expression. Yet not all of it could be dispelled, and she tilted her head to peer up at Echo’s face. “And Solas? What is your description of him?” She prodded, lightly._

_Echo made a noise, between a groan and sigh. She caged her arms around her chest, and bit the inside of her cheek. The fire crackled and popped as the logs began to crumble beneath heat and became molten ash at the base of the fireplace. “Solas is…is a complete contradiction. He is humble, and kind, and patient. He was willing to help, even putting his life in danger by approaching the Seeker when the sky was torn open and did so knowing that he might end up in chains because he is a mage,” Echo stated, her voice barely more than a husky whisper. “But I’m not sure I can believe in his good intentions. I know…I know that Solas is more than what he appears, and I know that he has a past that is terrifying on paper. I can’t reconcile the stories I know of who he really is, and the elf that walks and fights beside me.”_

_“Has Solas confide in your about…this past you know?” Ashlinn questioned, with a light frown._

_“No. I…I remember something I think. From my time as an ancient elf,” Echo admitted, her heart gave a painfully twist. “I remember seeing him back then, and it was not the name Solas that he went by.”_

_“And the fact that he hasn’t disclosed this to you has you concerned?”_

_“No, I would understand why he wouldn’t be so open about it. It’s not exactly the thing you tell to everyone, or shout to the heavens. I just don’t know if I should trust him knowing what I do,” Echo sighed, heavily. She rubbed the pad of her thumb nervously along her lower lip, and her heart was doing a funny, uneven dance inside of her chest._

_Tapping her fingers along her thighs, Ashlinn peered thoughtfully at her friend. “You know I was initially nervous about him. You seemed to be frightened when I appeared, like you were afraid he would do something sinister,” she commented, her tone feigning nonchalance. Her eyes however were piercing in their intensity and did not relent even when Echo dropped her gaze to the floor. “And yet, while I was cautious I knew he wouldn’t harm you. Not with the way he looked at you.”_

_Echo’s head snapped back up. “The way he looked at me? What the hell does that mean?”_

_Ashlinn gave her a quick flat look before she continued onward, as if Echo had no spoken at all, “Everyone is entitled to a past, Echo, and all pasts are littered with mistakes and regrets as much as they can be filled with accomplishments and joys. I’ve known men and women who have been murderers, spies and assassins who were able to band together and stand against a darkness where the hearts of supposedly good men failed.”_

_“And what does that mean, oh, sage one?” Echo asked, with an even tone._

_“It means that the past is not all of who we are, and that to judge a person solely on that, you do them a disservice,” Ashlinn told her, the corner of her mouth curled upward. “I know you, Echo, and you have good instincts. If something is telling that you need to give Solas the benefit of the doubt, then perhaps you should. Only time can tell if those instincts are right or wrong, and if he’s put himself in such a position to continue to help then perhaps he’s not as bad as his past leads you to believe.”_

_Echo swallowed, thickly. Her heart quivered in her chest, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. Ashlinn’s words were ones that she had repeated to herself, yet could not convince herself of them. “I don’t know,” she said, her eyes peeled open slowly. “I just don’t know…”_

_Maybe Ashlinn was right. She should allow Solas the chance to prove himself either ally or foe, but what if it was too late for such? What if her paranoia cost her an ally…and friend? The look on Solas’s face once again flickered in her minds eye, and inwardly she groaned. With a war, the Chantry, and so much more, she didn’t need more problems and yet it seemed more burdens were destined to be added to her shoulders no matter what she said. Shoulders slumped almost in a defeated posture, Echo lifted her chin to peer over at her friend. “How are you in the Fade, Ashlinn?” She asked the one question that haunted her the most. The one that gnawed at her incessantly almost as bad as her worries over Solas, and she watched Ashlinn’s face fall._

_Ashlinn hesitated, her eyes darted away from Echo’s face to peer around the cabin and her arms folded loosely over her chest. “There…there was an accident,” she said, her tone flat and barely audible. “I didn’t come out of it very good.”_

_Echo felt her stomach turn. “Being stuck in the Fade is a rather odd outcome,” Echo granted, but there was this uncomfortable knot where her heart should be. She could feel that Ashlinn was holding back. It was as if Ashlinn was holding onto a secret that could crumble the very world beneath their feet. “What kind of accident leads to that?”_

_Ashlinn clenched her jaw tight, and the muscle in her throat quaked. With a slow and shaky breath, she rubbed her arms and closed her watery eyes. “The kind that leaves you in a coma,” she replied, her voice thick with pain and sorrow. Her shoulders were drawn into a line of tension, and she couldn’t look at Echo in that moment._

_“What?” The word was a raw noise ripped out of her throat. Echo felt her heart dropped down into her feet, and bile churned violently in her gut before it rose like fire to the back of her throat. She clamped her hands over her mouth, and let out a shaken breath. “No! No!_ How _?” Her eyes searched Ashlinn’s face desperately, and her heart squeezed at the pain written there._

_“Echo…” Ashlinn said, with a hollow expression._

The boom of thunder drew Echo completely out of the Fade, and she cursed as rain beat down on the top of the tent. Her stomach seethed, twisting into knots and she felt like she was going to be sick. With angry and sorrowful tears in her eyes, Echo laid there finding it hard to breath. Her heart felt tore into little piece at the hollow expression on Ashlinn’s face still vivid in her mind’s eye, and her jaw was clenched so tightly that the sides of her face went numb. It had been her worst fear to end up in a coma like her father, Echo recalled and she wanted to scream at the universe for the unfairness of it all. 

She remembered the days after Ashlinn’s parents—well, her parents on Earth—accident. She remembered watching Ashlinn stalk through the hospital halls, with a pale and stricken expression, and as if each step took every ounce of courage that she had. And now Ashlinn was stuck in some hospital bed languishing away under the cold care of faceless nurses, and Echo hadn’t been able to do a single thing about it. A sense of helpless rolled over her in ways, leaving her shaken and it was worse than the day before yesterday. This time the helplessness stemmed from something personal, and there was no reasoning or justifications that could put it to rest. 

Drawing in a courageous breath, Echo pushed herself up off the bed roll. She didn’t know what aid she could offer Ashlinn, but she would go however far she needed to go to help her friend. No matter what the cost would be. Ashlinn would do the same for her in a heartbeat, so how could Echo do any less? The resolve gave her something to cling to as the storm outside her tent raged, echoing the one within her heart. Her eyes glanced over at Solas’s bedroll, and her heart gave a little jolt when she realized that it was empty. 

Ashlinn’s advice rang through her mind as clear as a bell. There was nothing to be done about Ashlinn’s predicament right this second, but there was one thing that Echo could do. Untangling her legs from the thin blanket, Echo got to her feet hoping that she caught him in time to fix her mistake. She had unfairly judged him because of his past, not taking into account that truth was seldom ever one sided. Even if Solas proved to be as bad as the stories portrayed, Echo hadn’t given him a chance to prove himself truly otherwise. He had helped, when others turned their back, and Echo had acted as if that hadn’t meant anything. But it did mean something, and Echo had to fix this before it was too late. She stumbled out of the tent without her armor, and narrowed her eyes against the onslaught of rain that fell from the heavens like golden dewy drops in the light of the dawn. 

Cassandra was already up, talking quietly to some Inquisition soldiers and seemed wholly unaffected by the down pour. She caught the Seeker’s eyes for a moment, and mouthed Solas’s name. The Seeker nodded her head pointedly over Echo’s shoulder, and Echo spun around on heel. Her stomach clenched when she saw Solas standing beneath a tree, with his back to the camp and a cloak draped over his person. Echo felt a slight tremble rush through her, but she managed to put one foot in front of the other until she reached the apostate’s side. She opened her mouth to speak, but he said something before she got the chance. 

“You should return to your tent until we are ready to set off,” Solas told her, his head bowed ever so slightly as the rain slid off the cowl that shielded her head. His staff was clutched in a knuckle white grip, and he stared out as the people milled about forced to start their day despite the gloomy weather. “It would not bode well for us if the Herald of Andraste became ill.” 

Echo flinched slightly at the title, feeling that it was more of a veiled insult in this moment than a title of worthy of respect. She shifted her legs, leaning towards the tree trunk and placed a hand against the wet bark to keep her balance. She mulled over what she wanted to say, but words felt like they would mean precious little here. “You’re still with us, then?” She asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft. 

“Disappointed?” He said, so coldly that Echo could practically see the icicle forming on his lips. 

Echo’s teeth sank into her lower lip. Her eyes darted away from his profile for a long moment, looking at the tender mist that hung over the green earth and her toes wiggled against the dewy grass nervously. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, and allowed the protective wall around herself fall just a smidge. “Relieved actually,” she told him, her voice soft and gentle. She watched him stiffen out of her peripheral vision, and if the circumstances had been different, she would have smiled. Instead, she felt a stab of guilt to her gut. 

Solas turned towards her, his blue eyes were blank as an unpainted canvas and there was a suspicious furrow to his brow as he gazed down upon her. “Relieved is not something that I would have imagined,” he finally said, neither addressing directly what happened in the Fade nor completely ignoring it all together. It was such a strange dance they did. They would do the push then the pull, the dodge followed by the leap, and always constantly testing the waters with each other. 

“To tell you the truth,” Echo said, with a quirk of her lips as she turned to look up at him. “Neither did I.” 

Solas looked at her, hard as if she were an extremely frustrating puzzle that had no true answer to solve it. "You are..." He started, but trailed off as if not able to find the most suitable word to say next. 

“The most frustrating, vexing person you’re ever going to meet? Probably,” she said, with a slightly cheeky grin. The cheek grin faltered underneath the inscrutable look she got in return, and her throat bobbed. “Look. Solas, I need to apologize to you…” 

“Oh?” One brow lifted. 

Echo looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. It was so loud the words inside of her head, the ones that she fought to say and in the right way to convey her regret. But how could she do so without removing all doubt that she knew he was Fen’Harel? Something in her gut told her once that secret fell from her lips it would irrevocably change the course and nature of this…strange connection she felt for him. It was terrifying to admit that felt any connection, at all. But denying it hadn’t gotten her anywhere, so if she just acknowledged and moved on it would be for the best. A shiver of self-doubt ran up the length of her spine before coil at the base of her skull with a throb warning her of an impending migraine. Sucking in a deep breath, she told him, “I’m sorry.” 

“For?” The word was a challenge, and it lingered between them volatile and white-hot as lightning. 

She could see the taunt written in his gaze, as if he were practically daring her to admit what she knew, but before she could even open her mouth—to either dance around the issue, or address the elephant in the room—Cassandra’s voice cut across the glean. “Herald!” 

Several heartbeats passed where neither of them dared to move or breath, and then Echo took a step back. Solas’s lips quirked upward, but it was not a smile. A grim amusement danced like shadows in his gaze, and he told her, his tone lofty, “Go and answer your summons, Herald, after all sheep must obey their shepherd.” 

Echo bristled, her eyes narrowed at the insult. Her nostril flared as she drew in a furious breath, and she turned to look at Cassandra who was waiting ten feet away with a curious look on her face. She managed a small smile for the Seeker, and made a gesture that said she would be there in one moment. Cassandra looked tempted to just drag her along, but instead inclined her head before she turned on heel leaving them to their privacy. As soon as the woman was out of earshot and eyesight, Echo pinned a venomous glare on Solas. 

"You think that those you walked amongst merely were sheep,” Echo drawled out, a sarcastic and tight smile upon her lips. She was beyond caring at this point if he even had an inkling that she knew his true identity. She had an unhealthy need to vent some misplaced aggression, and Solas was unfortunately the first in her path. He had hit the chink in her armor, probably knew that, too. The fear of control, and the lack of it was something Echo often contended with, and the fact he intentionally used it against her made her blood boil. All Ashlinn’s good willed words flew out of her head in favor of her anger. “Too bad for you, not all of us are sheep.” 

“You think that you are no sheep?” Solas gave a mocking chuckle, but the corners of his lips were tilted downward into a sour frown while his eyes narrowed dangerously on her. It looked like he was half daring her to run from, but only a fool runs from a wolf. “Are you not being led down a path that is not of your chosing?” 

Echo swallowed the lump in the back of her throat, and ignored the prickle of panic as well as the ping of hurt that lanced through her. “So I’m a sheep because I’m the Herald of Andraste? Or because I agree to help without much of a fight? If you don’t recall, you gave your aid very willing to the Inquisition as well,” she commented, with an eyebrow arched. “Does that make you a sheep as well, Solas? Or just someone wearing sheep’s clothing?” 

Oh, boy, the wolf didn’t like that, at all. In fact, he looked like he had swallowed a lemon, and Echo idly wondered why she was trying to bait him. Maybe she wanted him to admit who he was. Maybe she wanted him to be as vulnerable as she felt every time she spoke to him, like her secrets were laid bare for his amusement. Maybe…she just wanted to find someone who understood what it meant to be alone. 

Either way, she felt the fingers of death ghost against the back of her neck from the look that he aimed down at her. The great disapproval that burned in his gaze like cinders from a dying fire—still whitehot and capable of burning, but wouldn’t. Not unless she reached out and grasped them. “Don’t call me a sheep,” Echo continued, her voice thick with emotion. “You have known me all of three weeks. Do not presume to know what I am, because you certainly won’t like it when I prove you wrong.” 

And she turned on heel to walk away, but not before, giving him one last look. “We head out in ten, so be prepared or be left behind,” the cold dismissal from her lips made her inwardly cringe, but she held her head high as she walked away. And she did not look back, no matter how much she wished to. 

* * *

__

A grey overcast had swallowed up half of the sky and the other half was still bright and sunny. A light drizzle poured over them as they trudged up the hill away from the Crossroad. Echo was wholly miserable with the water in her boots, and thoughts that laid heavily upon her heart. They had seen Catherine off with Mother Giselle, along with the group of armed guards that would see them safely to Haven. After goodbyes were made, they sought to head out and for a moment, Echo believed Solas would truly not be coming with them. Then silent as the grave, he appeared by her side without a word. It left her with more confusion than she knew what to deal with, so she shoved it out of her head. Whatever laid between them was coiling tighter and tighter, and Echo feared what would happen once it snapped. 

“Raining while the sun is shining,” she said, her tone remarkably light. “That means it will rain twice as hard tomorrow, or so the saying goes. You can also tell if it’s going to rain by looking at the moon, you know?” 

“Truly?” Cassandra asked, slightly curious. 

“If there is a ring of light around the moons then it will rain the next day, and the further away the ring is from the moons the more it will rain,” Echo replied, her tired feet relieved once they got in plain view of the Crossroad. 

“I think you’re bullshitting with us, Mockingbird,” Varric challenged, lightly. 

Echo shrugged. “Believe what you will. Just know that little bit of knowledge served me quite well on my travels, and I haven’t had it disproved yet,” she commented, wiping the rain away with her sleeve. She still felt shitty from all that happened today, but she also felt a bit guilty that the four of them had been burdened with the brunt of her breakdown. No one had commented further on it, which Echo was eternally grateful for, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t forgotten. She needed a nice quiet area to meditate, and sift through her chaotic emotions. 

Her brows were bunched together, and a light scowl formed on her face as she tapped the rhythm to the Metallic’s ‘The God That Failed’ upon her thigh nervously. 

Varric caught the motion, and his lips twitched. “Your antsy is showing, Mockingbird,” the dwarf said, low and underneath his breath. 

Echo gaze darted towards the dwarf, and then down to her hand where the rogue pointed. Her fingers twitched, and she curled her hand into a tight fist. “It’s nothing,” she assured, her tone just as quiet. 

“You sure? Because usually when you start doing that you start fluttering around all like a kid hyped on sweets, and singing underneath your breath,” Varric recalled, having seen her many times fight her agitation by singing songs softly to herself as she cooked, or cleaned. It was a strange coping mechanism, and is half the reason for her nickname. 

Her lips pulled into a lopsided smile. “I promise I’m not about to burst into song, Varric,” she said, with a light laugh. 

“If you say so,” the dwarf chuckled. “A song might be actually a nice reprieve, and keep our mind off this deluge.” 

Echo shook her head slightly. Varric was always fascinated with the songs that she sung, and stories that she told. She had a plethora of them from Earth, and he always tried to get her to tell him more. “Then why not spin your own tales or song to pass the time by?” She said, with a hint of a playful smirk. 

“And emotionally scar the Seeker and Chuckles with dulcet tones?” Varric snorted, loudly. “I could never subject them to such torture no matter how appealing that might be. As for my stories, everyone’s heard them a thousand times over. I can’t tell you how many times the Seeker demanded I tell her the story of the Champion.” 

Cassandra scoffed, harshly. 

“It’ll be like beating a dead horse to hear it again,” Varric commented, with an offhand tone of voice. “What we need is something fresh, and that we’ve never heard before.” 

Echo gave him a flat look, before she sighed, heavily. He was like a dog with a bone when he set his mind upon something, and she knew he wasn’t going to give up. “I suppose a story won’t hurt, but I refuse to sing,” she stated, with a tone that left no room for argument. 

Varric inclined his head. “Fair enough.” 

Echo hummed, thoughtfully. She had half a mind to tell the story of Little Red Riding Hood, if only to get a rise out of Solas, but decided against it. She had openly taunted the wolf enough as it was, and it was probably best not to poke him anymore least he bite back. “Once upon a time there a man with several sons. His sons were the pride and joy of his life, but also were a source of despair, for they would quarrel constantly amongst each other. He tried for years to show his sons how to live with one another in harmony, but his sons were blinded by their pride and arrogance to listen to their father’s advice. Upon his death bed, the father bid each of his sons to come to him and each of them to bring one simple item. A stick.” 

Cassandra’s nose wrinkled. “A stick? What a strange request.” 

“The man’s sons thought so as well,” Echo inclined her head, with a hint of smile. “He took each stick from his sons, and put them in a bundle. He bid them to try to break the bundle over their knee, and one by one each of them failed. At the end of the test, the father undid the bundle and handed each of his sons back one stick. He told them now to try, and when they had no difficult breaking them at all. He looked at his sons, and said, ‘There my boys, united you will be more than a match for your enemies. But if you quarrel and separate, your weakness will put you at the mercy of those who attack you.’” 

“A wise lesson,” the Seeker stated. “There are many in the world that would benefit from such a lesson.” 

“Some individuals more than others,” Solas commented, understatedly. 

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flickered over at Solas. He was not looking at her; his gaze was set on the fields in the distance, and his outward appearance seemed wholly unconcerned. But she knew that comment was solely for her benefit. 

“NO!” A shout echoed down from the hilltop down towards them. 

Echo’s heart jumped painfully in her chest. She cast a quick glance at the Seeker, whom gave a sharp nod in return before they made their rushed up the hill. Her calves muscles throbbed, and burned at the hasty of their ascent, but she did not have time to focus on the aches of her body. Her ears could make out the hasty pleas beneath the low rumble of thunder, and she pulled an arrow out of her quiver. The bow string creaked as she pulled the arrow back, and as they came around the outcropping on the hill top, Echo saw a small cabin. 

But it was not the sight of the cabin, her eyes were immediately drawn to. It was the sight of a man trying to defend himself with a shovel from two Templars. It wasn’t hard to piece together what happened. The shovel could have been mistaken as a staff from a distance, but even now that the Templars were up on the man and could clearly see it for what it was, that did not halt their attacks. Bile rushed up Echo’s throat as the lightning flashed off the shine edge of the blade before it was buried through the man’s chest. 

A nearby elven woman gave a blood curdling scream as the shovel in his hand clattered to the ground, only followed by his body just a second later. 

Blood roared in her ears, Echo released the arrow, and it soared through the air. The Templar caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and managed to bring his shield up in time to stop the arrow before it struck his target. Cassandra charged the brute, bashing her shield against his with such force that it knocked him a foot backwards. Solas froze the archer in place so Varric could lodge a bolt straight in between said Templar’s eyes. 

Echo conjured a little flame, and made it lick the edge of the Templar’s robes. The Templar yelped, and Echo drew her arrow back, allowing it to flying straight into the man’s spleen. “Retreat! Retreat!” The Templar spluttered, before turning and running off. 

The Templar that Cassandra contended with managed to get a lucky blow, before he, too, turned tail and ran. The pair rushed through the thicket of nearby trees, and Echo took a step forward to make chase when a wretched and broken sound reached her pointed ears. 

“No…no…Hariel,” the elven woman gasped, her entire body quivered from head to toe. She crumbled to her knees at the dead man’s side, and pressed her face into her lifeless chest and clutched tightly at him, as if she held him tight enough it would bring him back. And though the man was clearly human, he bore a Dalish wedding band that matched the young elven woman’s. “D-didn’t I tell you it wasn’t saf-f-fe outside? But you s-stubborn man! You tell me, ‘Maura, I have to tend the garden!’ Stupid f-fucking garden! Stupid fucking Templars!” 

The woman’s rage melted into heartbreaking pleas. “Please…please…don’t leave me…” 

Echo throat tightened, and her heart felt heavy within her chest. Her eyes darted away from the emotional scene, and to the footprints left in the mud by heavy chain mail boots. Her chest expanded with a great breath, and she unsung her bow from her back. “Varric, Solas, you are with me,” she announced, her tone brisk and clear. “Cassandra, I want you to stay here with Maura. If anyone stands a chance against at protecting her if more come back, then it’s you.” 

“Herald, you cannot possible think to go after them,” Cassandra stated, her tone furious. Her dark eyes were as hard as flint, and she stepped forward. “Two mages, and a rogue against a group of Templars could easily be struck down.” 

“Two Templars, and one is heavily injured,” Echo countered, lightly. 

“An injured opponent can make for a more dangerous one, da’len,” Solas stated, pronouncing the elvish term with more flourish than necessary. 

“Perhaps so, but I have faith, _hahren_ , that we can be the victors on this day,” Echo shot back, tersely. 

“There are no victors in war,” Solas stated, his tone clipped. “Only those left behind.” 

Maura’s sobbing only seemed to lend weight to his statement. 

“Alright, alright,” Varric interrupted them, loudly. “Enough of the passive aggressive warfare between you two. The Templars are getting away while you bicker,” the dwarf said, giving Echo a look that implied they would be discussing what was going on later. “I’ll stay with the nice elf lady, and you three can go confront the insane Templars.” 

“Varric,” Echo started, worriedly. “If more Templars show…” 

“Mockingbird, I know what you are going to say, but really, I’ll be fine. When you think about all the shit that went down in Kirkwall, a few Templars are child’s play compared to that,” Varric smirked, patting Bianca fondly. 

Echo clenched her hands into fists at her side, before she nodded, curtly. She honestly didn’t want to leave anyone behind, but she knew that leaving Maura alone would be a mistake. She knew well enough where grief could lead, and it made her stomach rolling with anxiety. The only reason she suggested Cassandra was because the warrior woman was fierce, and knew a Templar’s method of fighting better than anyone save for Cullen. “Let’s hurry,” Echo ordered, severely. 

Cassandra’s mouth opened, her dark eyes flickered towards Varric with a hint of concern there. Then her lips pressed closed into a firm thin line, and her face was composed. “As you say, Herald,” the Seeker nodded. 

The three of them followed the footprints, as fast as their legs would carry them, because the dark clouds overhead would soon give way for more rain there was no doubt about that. And if that happened, it would wash out the trail. Echo’s heart throbbed in her chest, and there was an odd sensation that moved across her skin. A familiar sensation that made a bolt of panic rush through her, and she prayed that she could hold it off for as long as possible. 

The Templars had not made it far. Heavy armor was notoriously hard to run in, and the other being injured did not help their plight. Descending down the rocky path, Echo was about to come around the corner of a large rock when the mark on her hand sparked warningly, and she ended up taking a step back. A good thing because a sword came crashing down just where she had been standing naught a moment ago, and a very colorful curse—that Varric would have appreciated—fell from her lips. “Ambush!” She shouted, alerting Cassandra and Solas. 

Echo feared that the Templars had gotten reinforcements, but when she gave the Templar a wide berth, she saw that the two of them were the only ones there. They intended to take advantage of the small alcove, and try to control the battle. Echo knew that they couldn’t let that happen, and reached for an arrow when a smite lit up the area. 

“Fuck!” Echo swore, loudly. Her legs quaked beneath her, and her foot slid in the mud causing her to collapse onto her knees. Even though the smite had not been directed at her, the nearness of it still rattled her to her bones. She saw Solas’s displeasure flash through his eyes like quicksilver, and Cassandra placed herself in the Templars path, to give the two time to recover. Cassandra’s sword clashed with the Templars, and they began a bloody dance where there would be only one victory. 

Echo just hoped it was them. 

Her tongue clove to the top of her mouth, and she swayed drunkenly on her feet. Her fingers clumsily sought an arrow in from her quiver as her insides quivered, feeling scraped raw from the smite. Her breath came in harsh pants, and she blinked hard to clear her vision. Drawing the arrow back, she fired it and it sliced into the arm of the wounded Templar. The Templar let out a shock of pain, and charged forward towards Echo. Echo had no time to dodge, or draw an another arrow before a fist slammed into her temple. 

Her whole world went off kilter and she felt her teeth rattled in her jaw. She shook her head to clear the black dots that danced inside of her vision. She brought up her bow to block the Templar’s one hand sword, and she gave him a look that would have made death even pause before she shoved him with all her might. “Back off!” She growled out, her upper lip curled into a snarl. She planted her feet on the ground, and shoved herself to the feet. 

The magic coiled beneath her skin, but it wasn’t enough to light a spark let alone to use in this battle. Her pulse hammered in her throat, and she pulled out one of her daggers free from its sheath. Using her bow as shield, she blocked the templar’s attack and tried to drive her blade into his ribs. The Templar stumbled back, barely dodging the fatal blow. 

What he didn’t dodge was Solas whacking him clear over the head with the end of his staff, and the Templar fell forward. Not hesitating for a moment, Solas plunged the blade at the end of his staff clean through the templar’s neck. Echo flinched back at the spray of blood that caught her across the face, and took a step back in shock. Her throat clenched painfully tight, so tight that she could barely breathe and her fingertips brushed her cheek. The feeling of the warm, wet liquid sliding down her cheek had her choked up in a way that she hadn’t expected, and her chest shuddered. Her eyes looked up and she caught Solas looking at her, like he was analyzing her reaction. 

She made a noise, a choked breath before she turned her gaze away from him. Behind her, the Seeker pummeled the Templar to the ground. By the time, Cassandra was finished the man look like mangled beetle covered in sheen of bright red blood. The dark haired woman let out a long breath, and raised her head to look at Echo. “It is done,” Cassandra said, with a firm nod. “But it appears that the man was not the only victim that the Templars took today.” 

The Seeker walked deeper into the alcove until she reached the side of a body, barely visible in the shadows. Rivulets of blood and rain streaked down her face, Echo watched as Cassandra knelt down. There was something about the Seeker’s posture, like she carried a lot of weight on her shoulders and now more burdened had been placed there. 

“It’s a woman,” Cassandra informed them, soundlessly. She searched for any identification, or clue as to who this young woman—a noble—who looked so out of place out here amongst the chaos. She found a letter amongst the small ration the woman had stowed in her satchel, and she unfolded the parchment. The Seeker’s eyes scanned through the document, and her shoulders tensed with each line written. “There’s a letter.” 

“What does it say?” Echo asked, quietly. 

Cassandra hand clenched around the letter. “It is a letter…it is a letter to her lover,” the Seeker spoke, a strange note of sorrow in her voice. Cassandra’s throat bobbed, before she steadied herself and looked up at Echo with a much more even countenance. “A Lord Berand that is at Winterwatch. Vellina, the young woman’s name, was to meet him there so they could be together.” 

A grim sigh fell from Echo’s lips, and she looked down at the body with regret in her gaze. “We’ll take the letter to him,” she decided, a weary lisp to her words. “Let him know of her fate.” 

Cassandra nodded, stoically. “Very well. Now, let us make hasty, I do not like the thought of leaving Varric by himself over long,” she stated, thickly. 

In different circumstance, that might have made Echo laugh. 

* * *

The rain had stopped by the time they arrived back at the cabin, and a Maura’s husband had already be set up on a pyre. Varric slid the piece of flint back into his pocket, and the small knife back into his boot when he looked up to see them approach. “Back so soon? I guess those Templars weren’t that much trouble after all,” the rogue said, with a smirk. It was a smirk that did not reach his eyes in the slightest. 

Cassandra sent him a dark look. “Tell that to their victims.” 

“Victims as in plural?” Varric asked, a golden brow arched. “Well…shit.” 

Echo gave a light nod of agreement. She was tired of trailing behind an endless trial of death, or at least, that’s what it felt like. It was scraped at her, like nails digging in and pulling at her skin. She despised war in all of its bloody glory, and could not wait for the final blade to fall that would put an end to madness that they were muddling through. “How is she?” She asked, gesturing towards Maura. 

The grieving widow sat on a log, turning her husband wedding band over in her palms, with a distant look in her eyes. 

“How do you imagine, Mockingbird?” Was Varric’s reply. 

“Right. Stupid question,” Echo winced, a knot in her throat. “Sorry.” 

Varric snorted, lightly. “Your bleeding heart is in the right place, Mockingbird,” the dwarf stated, the mud squelching underneath his boots as he walked over to her side. “Don’t ever be sorry for that.” 

“My bleeding heart?” Echo parroted, with a dubious glance. The banter gave her an anchor for the moment, and made the fractures in her mask feel not so overwhelming. And she couldn’t afford to lose her mask that was keeping her sane. She could afford to drown down in the cold, unforgiving waves of darkness and sorrow that churned inside of her heart. Even though the blood washed away, she could still feel it sliding across her skin. 

“Yes, bleeding heart,” Varric stated, greatly amused. “You go on every day, head held high and looking the world straight in the eyes. You hold steady even when you see something horrible, and you want do so much more than you can to right the wrongs. It’s one of the reasons you and Hawke got along so well.” 

Echo wanted to laugh. A dark, sardonic laugh because he called her _steady_ and she felt like everything, but steady. “If you say so, Varric,” she told him, with a mild tone. Her gaze was focused on Maura who rocked back and forth. “I suppose a bleeding heart is better than one frozen to the core.” 

“A bleeding heart helps no one if it bleeds to death,” Solas added, with a solicitous frown. 

“Always so pessimistic, Chuckles,” Varric smiled. 

"Herald..." Cassandra's tone was soft. 

"I know," Echo whispered out. "I know." 

There was nothing more that they could truly do for the woman. Bringing back the dead was beyond even the Herald of Andraste capabilities, and any help that they could offer...would it truly be meaningful at all? A sigh managed to escape around the lump in Echo’s throat, and she trudged forward. Each step hesitant and filled with reluctance, but she took them nonetheless. She stopped in front of Maura, words of the tip of her tongue, but they died when red rimmed eyes peered up at her through wet lashes. There were no words that would ever make the loss of a loves one alright, or soothe the ache that it left behind. “I am sorry for your loss, though I know saying such is no relief for your pain,” Echo said, her voice soft and kind. “I can’t give you anything that would fix what has happened, but I can offer support. If you ever need help, there is an Inquisition camp not too far from here who would be more than willing to offer whatever aid you need.” 

Maura’s eyes watched her for a long silent moment. So long that Echo started to feel uncomfortable, and was about to turn away when the woman finally spoke. “Did you kill them?” 

Echo nodded, after a second. “Yes. We did.” 

“Then I have no need of anything else,” Maura stated, her voice rough as if her throat were made from sandpaper. The elven woman rose off the rock, shakily and waved off Echo’s attempt to steady her. Limping on a hurt ankle, the elven woman retreated into her cabin and shut the door soundlessly behind her. 

* * *

The midafternoon sun shined down behind the group, haloing in them in fiery oranges and dusty pinks, and Echo looked over the mountain keep silently marveling at the architecture of the old building that stood against time. Winterwatch was a good hold to find safety in the Hinterlands, a good distance from the epicenter of the chaos and formidable so that if someone did sieged against it they wouldn’t get far with swords and arrows alone. The gates had been lowered, and in front of them stood a severe looking with blond hair. She was talking to two people—initiates for the cult, perhaps—very adamantly about something, but went silent at their approach. 

The blond woman’s eyes flickered across Cassandra’s armor, the eye of the Inquisition that was engraved into it, and her lips dipped downward at the edges. “The Inquisition again? We turned away you before, and we will do so again,” she said, dismissing them before they could a word in edge wise. 

Cassandra’s brows drew together. “Our scouts reported a rift here in Winterwatch,” the Seeker said, not so easily deterred by the glare or cold tone. “We can no leave such a threat idle, and especially not when you have sought to make claim to the keep, putting your practitioners close to danger.” 

The woman gave a light huff. “My practitioners know to keep distance from the rift, and worship it from afar,” she stated, her tone still unwelcoming. “I am Speaker Anais. You say you come to not leave the rift a threat, but how do you propose to close it?” 

“The Herald is able to seal rifts,” Cassandra commented, incredulously. “Surely you have heard of her before now.” 

Speaker Anais’s eyes flickered towards Echo, and then down the glow upon her palm. There was curiosity there, and skepticism as well. _Someone who doesn’t fall on their knees and believe. What novelty,_ Echo thought, inwardly smiling. It was nice to see some doubt to counteract the devotion that she saw so often nowadays, and she almost felt normal in this moment. 

“I’ve heard tales, but I would see proof of such claims. If you be sent to seal the rifts, you are welcomed to challenge the one in our keep so that we may see for ourselves just how holy you may be,” Speaker Anais said, turning on her heel. She called up to her men manning the gate, and the loud mechanical clanks broke up the silence, as the gate was lifted. 

“I suppose that it is not surprising that in the face of an enemy they cannot contend, that people would turn to worshipping the Breach,” Solas commented, inaudibly. “If only in the hopes to appease it.” 

Echo wanted to dispute her supposed holiness herself, but she feared the Nightingale would magically appear and stab her in the back. The title of holiness is one of the things that drew support and people to the Inquisition, as well as raise the ire of many. She stepped into the keep, and her eyes looked around to find any signs of malcontent. Cults were often not a good thing, but these people seemed well taken of. There was no hint of fear in the air which made her relax just a fraction. 

“You alright, Mockingbird? You gotten very quiet,” Varric noted, idly. 

“Just thinking.” _About how I can Ashlinn, or what being the Herald really means. All while trying to keep it all under control._

She shivered, that foreboding feeling gnawing at her like a starving wolf. A metaphor that she didn’t particularly care for now that the thought crossed through her head, and her throat bobbed shakily. She walked passed the people and ignored lingering eyes aimed at her. Broken whispers beckoned to her, the indecipherable words flirted against of the shell of her with all the irritation of nails on a chalk board. She came to a stop at the top of the stair, the glimmer of the rift just in sight and she turned towards Solas. “Does the smite still affect you?” She questioned, with a light frown. She wouldn’t send him into a fight against demons with just his staff to defend himself. 

“No,” Solas replied. “I am well and able to fight again.” 

“If you are sure,” Echo whispered. 

“I am.” 

Echo inclined her head. She took each step carefully, for they were old and warped by erosion making them uneven. The sharp earthy scent of the mudded ground, and the plant life filled her nostrils. There was an undercurrent of a sulfuric odor that seemed to cling to the rifts, and Echo heard the burst of energy before it rolled over her like a shockwave. Two skeletal wisps came out of the swirling green patterns that the rift has spat on the ground, and a despair demon screamed, the temperature plummeting swiftly. 

Cassandra swiftly descended the rest of the stairs, using her shield to block to the icy blast the despair demon sent at her while Varric shot the nearest wisp in order to halt its attempt on the Seeker. 

Echo shot an arrow at the other wisp, causing it to whirl around towards her. She narrowed her eyes upon the demon, and pulled another arrow out of her quiver. She felt something warm pool in the air behind her, and knew that Solas intended to set the wisp alight. 

Echo pulled back her arrow back, as she wanted to the flames engulf the wisp and it clawed at itself before it died with one agonized choked noise. Turning, she adjusted her position so she could help Cassandra with the despair demon and lined up the arrow on the dancing demon. The Seeker pulled back, and Echo went to release the arrow when her hand abruptly jerked sending the arrow sailing way off target. 

Varric let out a loud laugh. “What were you aiming for, Mockingbird?” 

Echo couldn’t answer him. She attempted to pull her jaw open, and speak, but her jaw was unmovable as if made from stone. _No, no, no. Please not now. Now like this,_ she begged, feeling frustrated and fearful tears prickle at her eyes. Her chest clenched tighter and tighter with each desperate gulp of air that she dragged inward. She could feel the vibrations from the rift beat inside of her skull, and each flicker made the ever present sickness in her stomach to fester and grow. Beads of perspiration dotted her upper lip, she felt her heart flutter frantically inside of her chest. It in that second, she knew that she couldn’t avoid it. 

She was going to have a seizure. 

The sound of the battle was distant as if she had her head stuck underwater, and it took effort to turn her head to watch Cassandra cleave the despair demon’s head off its shoulder after Solas had weakened it immeasurably with a brutal fire spell. Varric finished off the wisp, and the rift began to churn once more, signaling that the battle was not over in the slightest. 

Her body was already betraying her. Her muscles felt brittle, coiling up tight underneath her skin preparing for the inevitable attack that would rend her helpless and quaking on the ground. And if the universe had not spit in her face enough, two terrors wretched them out of the illuminate spots on the ground. Their inhuman shrieks pierced her eardrums like a white hot nail, and she cringed, taking a step back. The bow shook in her bloodless grip, and in the next moment, she realized that the bow was not shaking. _She_ was shaking. 

“Cassandra,” she called through gritted teeth, “we must end this quickly.” 

One look at the Herald’s ashen face, Cassandra agreed. “Varric, flank them. Solas, use your ice to slow them down. Herald, cover me,” the Seeker ordered, her tone brusque and sharp as the blade she held in her hand. 

Echo let out a mute whimper, because she wasn’t sure she could. Everything in this moment was so sharp, the clarity of the world too much as her mind spiraled out of control. Her body bent halfway to the right at an awkward angle as she fought against the seizure tooth and nail, she took jerky steps to get closer to the rift. She could hear Solas admonish her, just barely, after he froze the terror demon that made to attack her from behind, but she could give no reply. The pressure of the terror’s presence eased, so she knew that Varric or Solas must have finished the demon off. 

Cassandra jerked back when she realized she was in her foe’s arm reach, and swung her sword with all her might, fatally wounding the terror demon. It collapsed to the ground, and Cassandra quickly drove the end of her sword straight through it’s face. Once it was clear the demon was not getting back up, Cassandra turned a furious look at Echo. “Herald, what was—” 

Echo gave a mute shake of her head, and lifted her palm upward towards the rift. She couldn’t spare words. She couldn’t spare the time. Time was her enemy here as well as her own body, and pain ruptured up her spine, driving her to her knees. 

“Mockingbird!” 

“Herald!” 

Hands grasped her shoulders to steady her, but she paid them no mind. Her eyes locked on the rift, not daring to blink even though the brightness of it hurt. A thunderous crack reverberated through the air, connecting her and the rift. _I have to close it. I have to close it!_ Echo thought, sluggishly putting the words together in her mind. With a cracked breath, she pushed her remaining strength into the mark, and as her vision went black she heard the rift snap close, and then knew nothing more. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR’S NOTE: 1.) The story that Echo speaks of it an adaption version of an Aesop Fable, I believe. Or a Grimm fairytale. I was browsing through my collection late at night, and can't remember exactly where I got it from. lol
> 
> 2.)This chapter is really getting the ball rolling for this story, we are seeing Echo break down, Solas identity could be exposed and how Ashlinn ties. Before fleshing out the plot more to accommodate Ashlinn into the storyline, this ending was originally supposed to be the end of Chapter Three. _ALSO_ the reason that Catherine nor Mother Giselle didn’t have a big goodbye is because it wouldn’t be a big tearful goodbye. While Echo likes Catherine well enough, it would not have been a tearful heartfelt and meaningful good bye. So I felt it necessary to opt out of making a big scene about it. Catherine, and Mother Giselle in her own way, will become more part of the story later own, however right now she is a background character. Hope you all enjoy! Also the Quest about the Dalish Wedding band didn’t happen as it did in cannon because Echo and co. caught the Templars in the act, and sent them packing so they never had the opportunity to steal the Dalish wedding band. I know because it was a Dalish wedding band that everyone assumes Maura’s husband is an elf as well. But as I was writing, there was something poignant about a human wearing an elven band, and learning the elven faith because he loved Maura so. In the original proof of this chapter, Maura was actually going to charge Echo with getting her husband’s ring back in exchange for use of her wagon to haul the meat and stuff back to the Crossroad. As I expanded, and this chapter became later in the storyline, I edited that part out for obvious reasons. The fight scenes weren't fleshed out more because it wasn't about the battles so much as Echo's emotions and showing the fracturing state of her mind under all the pressure.


	7. The Hunger in Your Haunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show me a hero, and I can write you a tragedy  
> I want to thank, FallenStars, Jade_Blanc, AEMoore, figmentz, Wobulator, AlwaysQuesting, dingo_dog, chaino425, millie435, for all the bookmarks!  
> I want to thank Fenesvir, Viji, Misokitty, Polli, Jade_Blanc, mid_2_Knight, DragonBaby2559, Brie88, AEMoore, figmentz, Saquira, Wobulator, TelegenicLotus, Wellmadedust, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, auntjilly89, 13_Ravens, Ardis, 0102and03, cheshiire, Tandorri_Frost, Hexpixie, chain0425, KittyDragoness, WickedWitchoftheWilds, Elina, Hotpotato, UsakoAuditore, seraphem31, iner, maireh, Silenceatemycat and the 25 guests for all the kudos! You are all awesome! :D  
> I want to thank Brie88, AEMoore, UsakoAuditore, Raven, Cupcakex for the comments.  
> Chapter Inspired by  
> CHAPTER INSPIRED THE SONGS:
> 
> “The Hunger in Your Haunt” by Crywolf  
> “Heavy” by Linkin Park  
> “Wolf” by Highly Suspect

Chapter Seven 

“The Hunger In Your Haunt”

* * *

When Echo came back to herself she was lying back on broken flagstones, and in the shadow of the great statue near the entrance of the Winterwatch. Her head was tilted up towards the sky that was now turning dark blue, hints of stars peeking through the dissipating rain clouds and winking down at her, and she blinked, dazed back at them. Her face was wet, and she tasted the salt of her own tears. Screams echoed in her mind, the attack still fresh and her stomach squeezed tight. A curse would have fell from her tongue, but her tongue felt too big for her mouth, and flopped uselessly against the back of her teeth. She couldn’t believe she had a seizure, but at the same time, she knew that it was inevitable. She knew that the bright crackling light was going to eventually trigger an episode, but she had done so well fighting them off. At least, before the mark that was. 

She tried to move, but all she could manage was a shallow gasp, a shudder that rattled out from her chest, and down her body. Frustration lanced through her, sharp and merciless, and she hated this. She hated how it made her helpless, and she swore she would never been helpless ever again. Yet here she was sprawled out in the middle of a fort that had been claimed by a cult, and she could feel the number of eyes that moved across her. Their curiosity burned, and scratched at her skin, and she wanted them gone. She wanted them off her, because she wasn’t a side show freak for them to point and mock, or worse, she wasn’t a savoir for them to worship. She wanted none of it. 

Her mouth trembled, her tongue clucked instead of the words she hoped for, and she knotted her fingers in the cold, wet grass, to give her leverage to pull herself up. The grass snapped, too weak, and she grunted when she collapsed back against the ground. _Blow me,_ Echo thought, viciously, and only wished she had been able to shout it out loud. 

A hand, smooth and warm slid behind her neck, cupping and forcing her head up off the ground while the cool rim of a potion bottle was pressed against her lips. Her eyes flickered up, and it took a moment, but her eyes focused on Solas’s face. “Drink,” he ordered, the expression on his face not one easily placed. His eyes scrutinized her from head to toe, and a heavy furrow sat upon his brow. His jaw was taunted, his teeth gnashed together. 

Echo opened her mouth, and the potion coated her tongue. The flavor of it was painful; her senses overwhelmed by the seizure, and she choked on the potion. Solas adjusted his hand, sliding it down to between her shoulder blades to lift her better, and she felt Varric grasp her shoulder on her other side to help him. The potion slide down her throat, and her eyes clenched tightly. The relief was mercifully fast, but there was unsteady feeling that was left. One that couldn’t be dispelled by potions or magic, and Echo wanted to cry. 

She was _vulnerable._

Vulnerable in a way that she had never let anyone see. No one in Thedas beyond Leandra Hawke, and Garrett had known about her seizures. Not even Varric knew about it. She had hidden her epilepsy because at best, people would think her afflicted with a disease, and at worse, a mage being possessed. There was obviously more to it than that. Awkward feelings of helplessness, shame, and frustration piled on top of so much more that it was maddening. Now that was all laid bare for everyone to see, and she just wish she could shove it all back it. Pry it away from their eyes, and put the worms back into the can, sealing it up tight. 

But she couldn’t, and now she was afraid to open her eyes. Afraid to see judgment or pity on faces, but Echo knew she couldn’t keep them shut forever. Swallowing hard, she pulled her eyes open as the glass bottle was lifted away from her lips, and found Cassandra’s face. “The rift?” Her voice sounded raw, and broken. She fought valiantly to kept her jaw from trembling, and her expression blank against the Seeker’s prying eyes. 

“Closed,” Cassandra announced, with a frown. Her sharp, dark eyes held many questions as she assessed Echo with a critical gaze, but she did not ask them. Not yet, anyways. 

“Indeed. It seems we were a fools to doubt you, Herald of Andrastate,” Speaker Anais said, with a touch of awe in her voice. She stood of to the left side of Cassandra, and was barely more than a blurry mass to Echo’s eyes. “Whatever we can do to help your cause, then just say the word.” 

Echo wanted to punch her in the face, and felt only slightly like a horrible person for such a thought. With the help of Solas’s steady hand, she rose to her feet and her knees quaked with the effort. “Thank you for the kindness, Speak Anais. Spread the word of the Inquisition, and help refugees if you can,” she said, her words a breath apart. Her hand reached out, clutching Solas’s arm as if it were a much needed anchor, and she felt her magic tremble through her, vibrating with anxiety. 

“And perhaps lodgings for tonight if you can spare such,” Cassandra added. 

“That, too,” Echo nodded, gratefully. There was no way they could trek back to the Inquisition camp, not with the weaken state that she was in. _Fuck my life._

“Of course!” Speaker Anais said, happy to accommodate them now. A few more words were spoken, but it was the Seeker who took charge in which Echo was more than willing to let her do. She was too lost in her troubles to manage to speak another word right that second. The next few minutes passed in a blur, and somehow she went from standing underneath the statue to sitting down in a chair. The room had not a soul save for Solas, Varric and herself, but loud noises came out of the adjoining dining that caused her to flinch every other sound. 

“Your eyes are more bloodshot than the talkative asshole that practically lives at the Hanged Man,” Varric said, a flinty quality to his voice. 

“Accurate assessment,” Echo said, thickly. Her nose was running and itched, and there was red splotches dotting her face from her forehead all the way to the tip of her chin. Her eyes burned and were heavy with exhaustion. She always felt so tired, as if she were a hundred years old, after an episode. It took all she had to wrangle control back into her grasp, and not falling apart which would have been so easy to do. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to have to explain what happened, but she could feel the walls closing. Tighter and tighter against the walls seemed to press against her, and it was so hard to breath. It was impossible to breathe. 

Cassandra rejoined them, after her conversation with Speaker Anais was over. “Speaker Anais said she will be back once she has found us somewhere to sleep,” Cassandra said, voice a touch rigid. She pinned Echo underneath an obdurate stare. “Is there something you wish to explain, Herald?” 

Guilt flashed across her face, and she ducked her head slightly. “Not really, but I guess I sort of have to now, don’t I?” Echo said, glumly. She made no effort to hide how reluctant she was with this information, and crossed her arms over her chest, lightly. 

“What was that, Mockingbird?” Varric asked, when she didn’t start her explanation right away. His features were hard-edged, and only someone who knew him well like she did could see the wounded undercurrent that lingered in his eyes. “Solas said the mark wasn’t responsible, so what was?” 

_My stupid brain and fucked up synapses,_ was the reply that echoed in her head. Licking her dried lips, Echo looked away from him because she couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. “It’s…it’s a condition I suffer from,” she rasped, flexing her fingers in the lap. Her muscles gave a twinge, still suffering from the seizure. She wasn’t sure how to explain epilepsy to them for such conditions were not known in Thedas, and if they were, weren’t widely known. “It’s called epilepsy. It’s an ailment of the brain that causes seizures, and other things.” 

Varric’s eyes narrowed. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything? Did Hawke know about this?” He demanded, voice as keen as a blade and just as sharp. 

Echo winced. “Yes, but only because I had an attack in front of him and his mother,” she whispered out, regretfully. 

“I’ve seen such attacks happen to former templars who…” Cassandra paused, eyes downcast. “Who had stopped taking lyrium, and suffered without it terribly. But I have never heard of such as a chronic condition as you have described.” 

“Indeed. I’ve known gravely ill or wounded to experience such due to the extreme stress upon their bodies,” Solas commented, studying her intently. “But like the Seeker have never heard of your…strange ailment before. It has not seemed to have hindered you thus far, so why now did your condition worsen? What triggered such an attack?” 

_Damn you, you perceptive bastard._ Her nostrils flared as she exhaled through her nose slowly, and her temples gave an excruciating throb. Part of her wished that this was some nightmare conjured by the Fade, and that she would awaken any second. Yet seconds ticked by, and the reality of the world threatened to pull her asunder. “Many things can cause it to happen. I mean, sometimes the underlying cause can be hard to figure out in some cases, but…” 

“Mockingbird,” Varric said, sternly. 

Her cheeks turned pink, and she cleared her throat after a moment. There was no avoiding the stampeding elephant in the room, and she had a feeling if she dared tried again then that elephant would crush her. Or more accurately, Cassandra would wring her neck. “Stress can cause it. Lack of sleep. Bright flashing lights,” she added the last one, with a scathing tone. It might not have been the entirely the green luminescent rift that made her have a seizure, but it definitely had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Seriously, this was mortifying enough without being reminded that she had been undone by a glowing blob of light. “Other things can cause it, too, but those are the main suspects for this episode.” 

It was so fucking strange talking about her epilepsy with them. Hawke and Leandra hadn’t pressed her beyond her telling them she had an illness. It had been obvious to them how it had made her feel—miserable, ashamed, vulnerable all in the worst of ways—and they had respected her right not to divulge more. But this was so far different than that. That had been a simpler time where the world didn’t hinge on a mark that was stuck to her flesh, and Echo longed for such simple things right now. 

Cassandra looked furious. “And you did not think that we needed to know this?” The Seeker demanded, harshly. “You were left helpless in that battle. If we had not been able to taken down those demons so swiftly…” Pure vexation knotted upon the warrior’s brow, and she stared down at Echo with hard eyes. “You could have jeopardized not only yourself, but all of us as well. It was a foolish thing to do, and it will not be repeated, is that clear?” 

Echo gave her a decidedly mulish look. “I can’t stop the attacks, Cassandra,” she stated, with a light huff. The less words she uses, the better. Her tongue ached with the need to further explain, but such words would clatter against her teeth like a wrecking ball into a wall. She wanted nothing more than to curl up into a little ball for a week, and forget the world all together. “I can’t always tell when they are going to happen. The warning signs aren’t always clear.” 

“That does not excuse the fact that you did not warn us that they could happen, and thus left us unprepared,” Cassandra told her, with a finger pointed at Echo. “A weak link in a chain can result in it breaking no matter how steadfast the rest of it may be. The story you told earlier? Perhaps the moral of it is one that you need to take to heart.” 

Echo flinched slightly at the acidic tone of voice that Cassandra wielded almost as deadly as any blade, but before any of them could speak more, a young man approached them to show them to where they would be staying for the night. 

* * *

Moonlight spilt on the high, wild and dewy grass below the edge of the balcony where Echo stood with her arms crossed over her chest. The moon soared overhead, it’s gleaming white face blemished by wisps of clouds that danced in front of it while it’s bigger counterpart remained hidden behind the fading storm clouds, the edges of it just peeking into sight. She stepped away from the railing, and rubbed her arms to chase the chill away. They were given a room with along a balcony on left tower, and few bed rolls to sleep in beneath the starry sky. The door was ajar and unintelligible assemblage of voices from the mess hall below creep in ever so slightly allowing for no ounce of silence. 

She kept glancing at the door as shadows passed by, expecting for the others to return any moment only to sigh in relief when no one dared enter. Varric and Cassandra went in search of food while Solas went to speak to Hyndel, and there a tug of guilt that festered in her heart. She should have gone with them, but she could not deny she was happy to be given a moment alone with her thoughts. Her body was raked with shivers that she could quite control, and no amount of self-control could stop it. She didn’t have any, not in this. Her body was its own tormentor, and it would not yield or listen to the voice of reason that clawed in the back of her mind scrapping and scrambling to rebuild her walls. The barriers that were her life, and shield against the rest of the world from getting too close. 

Her hand is quaking with the telltale of another seizure, and her breath catches in the back of her throat. It wasn’t as bad as the last one that stole her consciousness from her, but in another way, it was worse because she _remember_ it. _Stop shaking,_ her inner voice demands, but her body ignores it. She slowly drops down onto the ground before her knees could give out, and make her fall face first. Looking an arm through the stone railing, she clings to it the best that she can and pressed her nose against the stone, inhaling the sharp scent of granite. The coldness of the stone is balm against her flush skin, the only comfort she can grasp in this moment and she is glad that the others are gone. She couldn’t stomach them seeing her like this again. 

Of course, her relief is short lived. 

The door creaks open, and she doesn’t have to turn to look to know that Solas entered the room. His magic hummed in the air, and spiked sharply like a crack of a whip with alarm as he lingered with his hand pressed against the wooden door. Then in the next moment, the door is sealed shut with a soundless whisper that made her cringe worse than any loud slam ever could, and he was at her side in the next blink of her eye. Blue eyes scanning and assessing what is happening and a frown dipped at the corner of his lips. 

Part of her wanted to snap. To rip into him. To send him far away from her, but at the same time she wanted to be alone, she didn’t want to be lonely. The contradiction leaves her choking on a white hot emotion in the back of her throat, and tears pool inside of her eyes. She holds herself still as a statue like a rabbit caught in a snare when his hand rested upon her shoulder, and her pulse hammered in her throat. 

“Is there no potion that can aid you?” Solas questioned, gently rubbing her bare arm to warm her. There was an unnatural heat that clung to her skin, and the pale pallor of her face concerned him. 

Echo wordlessly shook her head. Her chest contracted, no air drawn in or released. She folded into on herself, her eyes affixed on his face and something in her _trembles._

There is confliction on his face, a slight twitch of his hand on her arm as if he intended to draw away, and then a quiet sigh fell from his lips. His hand slid across her shoulder blades before he curled around her other side, and gently he pried her shaking form from the railing. Echo for the life of her didn’t understand why she let him help her to her feet, but she was too exhausted to fight him. Her body leaned into his using his as an anchor as her legs trembled beneath her, and he led her to a nearby chair. 

“Breathe,” he ordered. 

She couldn’t have disobeyed if she tried. Her lungs demanded air and she sucked in a harsh, stuttering breath. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands, and she kept mentally counting backwards from ten over and over again. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and her throat convulsed, swelling with words that she couldn’t manage to say. That she was alright. That she was fine. That she didn’t need his help. Then his fingers brushed across her chin, softening whatever resolve she had been building up during the short walk from here to there. Her stomach fluttered when her eyes clashed against his. 

The furrow along his brow softened, after he thumb brushed along her chin. “Your ailment is still affecting you,” Solas commented, quietly. His eyes were thoughtful, but no less guarded than they had been earlier this morning. 

“I-it…” Her lips quaked, as she formed the words. “It…comes and goes…” 

Solas hummed, underneath his breath. “You should have told us. You wouldn’t have been left alone,” the apostate chastised, with a mute sigh following his words. His blue eyes looked away for a second before they returned with renewed scrutiny upon her face. “Are you alright?” He asked. The same question that was always asked. 

The tremors were ebbing back like the tide at night, and the white hot knots in her lungs uncoil one by one. As the last quake racked through her body, a wave of exhaustion tumbled across her and slumped in the chair, allowing her eyes to close. 

Solas’s expression turned stern. His thumb pressed down insistently on her chin, making her eyes pop back open and locked on to his. “Are you alright?” He questioned, his tone steady. 

Echo stared at him, trying to ascertain why he cared if really did at all. When no answer came, she gulped in air for several seconds before her answered, “I’m fine.” The same old lie that always fell from her lips and it rang so hollow as if this time she couldn’t put enough into it to make it believable. 

Blue eyes narrowed. “Liar,” he accused, lightly. 

Echo let out a breathy and tired laugh at the word. “Well, not all of us can be bastions of truth like you,” she told him, a wry grin on her lips. His eyes flashed again, and she choked on the hysteria that bubbled up in her throat. There was simply too much of it, like a smile with too many teeth. Her body was sore, like her insides had been stretched too far and stuffed back into skin two sizes too small. 

The door opened up, and Solas’s hand dropped from her face before Varric entered the room. Cassandra had a disgruntled look on her face, and with bowls of stew in each hand. Varric had an all too pleased look on his face, as he also carried two bowls and a bottle of wine underneath his arm. “Mockingbird, you look like death,” Varric said, his usually smile and sarcastic tone there. Yet there was an underline tone that Echo an uncomfortable feeling of shame, and she looked down at her lap. 

Solas rose carefully, and turned towards them. “I take it you have spoken to the young man indicated in the young woman’s letter?” He asked, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“Unfortunately, no. The young man was sent out to gather supplies, and has not yet return. Speaker Anais has told me that he should be back by dawn,” Cassandra stated, her tone clipped. She set the bowls down on the table, and her shoulders rose with a deep breath. She glanced over at Echo, and questioned, “How you are feeling?” 

“…better,” Echo replied, thickly. 

“Will you be well enough to travel by morn?” The Seeker asked, with a light frown. 

Echo inhaled, slowly. “Yes.” 

The Seeker looked at her. “You are certain?” 

“No,” Echo admitted. “I can’t be certain. But we can hardly wait for my body to cooperate, now can we?” 

“If you are unwell then we cannot risk you,” the Seeker countered, her eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to speak further then her jaw snapped shut, and her nostrils flared with a hard breath. Cassandra clenched her hands at her side, then pinned Echo with a look. “While you condition is troubling, we will have to work around it. We only move once you are full strength, and not a moment before.” 

Before Echo could even think up an argument, Varric shoved a bowl of food into her hands. She wasn’t really hungry, feeling nausea roll through her, but she didn’t dare reject the food. She could see the bad mood lingering over Varric, and had a feeling he would spoon feed her while the Seeker hold her down if she didn’t try to eat herself. Grasping the spoon between her fingers, she stirred the lamb stew idly for a few moments before lifting a spoonful to her lips. The bland and chalk taste of the stew slid down her esophagus as a snail’s pace, and landed in her stomach like a lead weight. 

Solas quietly thanked Cassandra for the bowl of soup, before he sought solace out on the balcony. Cassandra sat down at her bedroll, and ate her bowl of soup while flipping through a book she had pulled out of her satchel. Varric plopped into the seat on the other side of the table from Echo, and started shuffling a deck of cards, ignoring his food entirely. 

Echo took another bite or two of her food before she lowered the spoon, and let it settle back into the bowl. “You are mad at me.” 

“Really? How’d you figure?” Varric commented, wryly. 

“I know your voice,” Echo said, softly. She ran her fingers through her hair before she dropped them onto the table, and looked up at him. “Look, I…I just didn’t want you or the others to look at me differently. Like I was some fragile doll that needed to be protected or saved.” 

“I never saw you as some doll, Mockingbird,” Varric told her, with a shake of his head. “And I wouldn’t have even if I had known about this.” 

“How do you really know?” Echo asked, brushing her hair out of her face. 

“Because I know me,” the dwarf said, firmly. He shuffled the cards with an expert hand, and stared across the table at her with an unblinking gaze. “And more importantly, I know you. Even in at your most vulnerable, you have a sense of strength about you. Only a fool would think of you as such, Mockingbird.” 

Echo fell silent because she didn’t know what to say next. Instead, she stared down into her soup, and saw her distorted reflection in it. A feeling clawed at the pit of her stomach as if trying to dig a whole all the way to Tevinter, and she bit the inside of her cheek. 

Varric stared for a half of second longer before he let out a tiny groan, and shook his head side to side. “I suppose I can’t blame you for your secrets. We all have them, even those we keep from those closest to us,” he commented, a shadow of a thought passed through his eyes before they became clear again. “So you well enough for a game of Wicked Grace?” 

The knot anxiety that was her heart loosened ever so slightly, and she nodded her head. “Yeah, sure,” she gave a small smile, but her lips quivered. 

“Good,” Varric said, with a pleased tone. “Now I hope you are better than the last time we played. I recall you losing a fair bit of coin.” 

“Only because someone cut the deck in their favor,” Echo said, with an eyebrow arched. “Whoever said cheaters never proper has never met you or Isabella.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Varric said, dealing out the cards with a swift ease. As Echo picked up her deck with a slightly trembling hand, Varric added, “Just next time you have some weird harmful shit about to happen like today, let me know so I can have you back, alright?” 

Echo hesitated briefly, nodded. “Alright, Varric. I promise.” 

And that was all that said between them about it. Yet even though no one mentioned it again that night, there was a storm brewing inside of Echo’s heart. And that storm followed her into the Fade only an hour or so later after she settled into her bedroll. 

_The wind howled causing the windows of the house to rattle, and the walls to shake. Rain, almost deafening in its intensity, showered down onto the rooftop with a thunderous roar. It was little surprise to Echo that she was standing in the middle of Ashlinn’s home. The place was always felt calm, and warm. A safe place to rest her head despite the storm raging outside, and it was no surprise that Ashlinn was there, too._

_Standing with her arms crossed and back to Echo, she stared out across a lake with pale moonlight gleaming off the steel water giving it the illusion of glass. The dark haired woman’s shoulders stiffen, but once she turned to see Echo there, all the tension drained out of her. There was a beat of silence between them, and she sighed, “Echo…”_

_“It’s been a long day,” Echo commented, slowly. The dark thoughts she kept at bay were rushes through her; the dam had cracked, nothing held back. What people didn’t understand that depression wasn’t some sad feeling that would pass over time like a bad cold. No, it was like a cancer born forth from her own body that riddled through every last breath, threatening to consume her from the inside out. “One of the hardest that I’ve had in a long time.”_

_“What happened?” Ashlinn asked, frowning._

_“Too much,” Echo replied, her brow furrowed. “Or perhaps too little. Sometimes, it’s hard to understand just what exactly it is that breaks me down.”_

_Ashlinn gave her a distressed look. “I know that talking about it doesn’t make it easier. Those type of feelings never have a straight forward answer, or can be defined by simple words,” she whispered, carefully. “But if you need someone to—”_

_“Please don’t,” Echo said, her voice cracking with emotions. Her mismatched eyes looked tired, and her expression strained with pain. “Please no more dancing around it. It’s too much. It’s too much in here, or out there. I need…” She licked her lips, and took a couple of steps forward. “I need something…clear. Something that has answer, and right now, the real world holds too much questions and problems to muddle through. So I need you to be honest with me here.”_

_Ashlinn’s throat bobbed, and the concern grew in her eyes as she took in Echo’s appearance. The paleness of her skin, the utter exhausted that poured off of her in waves, and the desperation to cling to some kind of port in the storm._

_“This isn’t about me!” Echo nearly screamed, and ran her hands down her face. Maybe it was an overreaction, but she couldn’t quite bottle it up anymore. It was like a pot boiling over, and spilling over onto the stove. The light sizzle and pop before the smell of smoke before the inevitable flames. She gulped down air, knowing she needed to calm down before she drew the unwanted attention from the Fade. “I’m tired of everything depending on me, or being something about me! I’m literally sick of myself, so…can we just please just focus on_ you _? Like how the fuck are you in a coma? What accident put you in a coma?”_

_Ashlinn bit her lower lip, her eyes downcast. “Okay. Alright,” she nodded, lightly. “It was…a car accident.”_

_“A car accident?” Echo’s stomach plummeted. Images of murky water came to her, stuck in a metal death trap, and the water closing on her. Then it hit like bolt to the chest, and here came the flames. The ones that licked at her skin, burrowing into old wounds that tore at her, and she felt all the air rushed from her lungs. “A…car accident?”_

_Ashlinn just gave a simple nod._

_A car accident put Ashlinn in a coma. A car accident just like the one that Echo had, and the parallels kept lining up through their lives. Yet this wasn’t just a parallel. It was too simple on the outside, but the inside was something she feared. She could see it written between the lines in bright neon letters, and her heart just broken. “N-no. Just no,” a bubble of laughter—inappropriate as it was distraught—escaped her lips, and she felt the urge to curl up into a tiny ball, in an effort to shield herself from the panic. “No…please no. Tell me, it’s not the same…”_

_Ashlinn stepped forward with a hand reaching out, but Echo backed away from it. “Echo, don’t do this,” she told her, with a beseeching look._

_Echo just looked at her brokenly. “How? You weren’t in the car with me!” She couldn’t believe it. There were many things that could cut her, fragments of thoughts that were sharp in her mind, but none left her as numb as this did. Her mouth went dry as a desert, and she could barely swallow back the urge to vomit._

_“You called me,” Ashlinn explained, after a moment. There were tears in her eyes, and she blinked them away. “You were upset, and…when the line cut off I had this sick feeling in the pick of my stomach that something had happened. I remembered the app that we installed on each others’ phones, and I used it to find you.”_

_“You…” Echo remembered the feeling of despair when she thought she was dying; how alone she felt when she drew in her last shaken breath. “You came for me?”_

_“Of course I did,” Ashlinn replied, her voice tight. “You are my friend. Did you think that I could just leave you there? You were trapped, and drying, and I couldn’t just walk away.”_

_“You shouldn’t have,” Echo nearly shouted._

_“How dare you say that?” Ashlinn’s eyes flared with a swift, and righteous fury. Thunder roared like an angry monsters as the wind slammed the front door open, and the lights of the house buzzed and flickered. Her face was contorted with pain, disbelief and most of anger. Hands closed into fists, she pinned a blistering stare on Echo’s face. “How dare you say that?”_

_“You’re in a coma, Ashlinn!” Echo screamed at her, scalding hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “And I put you there! I am the reason that you are stuck in the hospital, and stuck in the Fade! How can you expect me not to blame myself?” The rapid beat of her heart slammed against her eardrum, almost drowning out the storm that raged on beyond the cabin. “You watched your father in that hospital bed until they pulled the plug, and I saw how that devastated you. I knew you never wanted to be in that position and I made it happened!”_

_“Stop it! Just stop it!” Ashlinn snapped, fiercely. “I dove into the water after you on my volition. You didn’t force me to that, you didn’t pull my hand behind my back to make me do it, and I’ll be damned if I let you try to blame yourself for the choice that I made.” She pursed her lips when a terrible shriek of despair demon in the distance, and her chest heaved with a great breath. She marched over the door that was banging against the wall as the wall, and with all her force, shoved it shut. Her fingers slid around the lock, and twisted it into place before she turned around towards Echo. “And even knowing where that choice has led me, I would do in a heartbeat again. Just like you would have done for me.”_

_Echo could barely breathe, it hurt so badly._

_“Echo, this isn’t your fault,” Ashlinn said, quietly. “It isn’t your problem to fix. You can’t fix me. You can’t make me better, and you can’t get me out of the hospital bed any more than you can get me out of the Fade. Don’t put that impossibility on your shoulders.”_

_Echo shuddered, wiping the snot away from her upper lip. A strange still crawled over her like a second skin, and her mismatched eyes met Ashlinn’s tear filled blue ones. “That…” she whispered, her voice crackling with the two syllables. She rocked back her heels slightly, and she started forcing herself awake. “That’s not your choice to make,” she added, with a quiet conviction._

_Ashlinn froze, and then stepped forward. “Echo, whatever you are thi—”_

__Echo sat up on her bedroll with tears dripping down her cheeks, and her chest felt heavy like a lead weight sat on it crushing her lungs. She pushed herself up off out of the bedroll, and stared around them room. It was still dark outside, and no sign of the dawn. Her eyes went towards Cassandra’s bedroll where the warrior slept soundly, to Varric who snored lightly though he would deny it, and to Solas’s—empty and untouched._ _

__Echo wiped her tearstained cheeks clean on her sleeve, and got up out of the bedroll. Her legs were stiff and awkward when she first got to her feet, and she could keenly every inch of her body. Sore and stiffen, she felt like a broken puzzle that had been shoved back together wrong. The stone floors were ice cold against her feet as she tiptoed past her two sleeping companions, and out the door that groan lightly as she pushed it open._ _

__When she stepped through the threshold a strange sensation swept across her skin like she had just walked through spider webs, and an awareness pressed against the base of her skull. The corridor was silent and empty because everyone was safely tucked away in whatever cot or bed they had. She made her way down the steps, descending quietly into the bar area and somehow she knew that she’d find him down here. Solas sat in the silent room with a glass of wine sitting on the table next to the parchment that he drew the charcoal across despite the dying torchlight that painted the room in shadows. Even though his back was towards her, she knew that he was aware of her entrance._ _

__“You should be resting,” he stated, his tone clipped._ _

__Echo didn’t reply. Her heart pounded in her chest, a cold damp sweat broke out along the nape of her neck and she approached him. She noticed when his eyes flickered up to her that they held a luminous and hypnotic quality. An unspoken temptation, but she hastily pushed it away because she didn’t come here to stare at his eyes no matter how much they were like magnets drawing her in. He did not move a muscle as he regarded her, and his eyebrow arched upward. A rumble of fear moved through her veins, but she had no choice as she replayed her conversation with Ashlinn in her head._ _

__Echo knew that there was no turning back, and bit the bullet. “I know who you are,” her voice quavered as it barely managed to get it passed the huge knot in her throat. “I know that you are Fen’Harel, and I need your help.”_ _

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a cliffhanger. I had this ending written differently, but was unable to find where I saved it. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this ending instead. :D
> 
> One thing I think Ashlinn and Echo share is that they feel responsible for everyone, but don't what to have to put their burdens on other people's shoulders. They feel that they should be able to do it themselves, and this is very clear in their interaction in this chapter.


	8. Caught in Between Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: The group takes on the rebel mages in the Witchwood, but other dangers lay hidden there waiting to claim them. Solas and Echo must come to an understanding if there is to be any hope for Ashlinn. Solas starts to truly doubt his path, and his plans for Thedas’s future.   
> I want to thank FallenStars, Jade_Blanc, AEMoore, figmentz, Wobulator, AlwaysQuesting, dingo_dog, chaino425, millie435, for all the bookmarks!  
> I want to thank Brie88, UsakoAuditore, AEMoore, Lightlana, KittyDragoness, AliFenZevSolAlways, for the wonderful comments! Keep them coming, I love them. :D  
> I want to thank Garbagio, Chitsukii, Valsheress, April_Marciano, AliFenZevSolAlways, Anna_Donavan, silverfox2011, drdada, SeekerofAstridFae, Chansisen, Icefrog, Fenesvir, Viji, Misokitty, Polli, Jade_Blanc, mid_2_Knight, DragonBaby2559, Brie88, AEMoore, figmentz, Saquira, Wobulator, TelegenicLotus, Wellmadedust, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, auntjilly89, 13_Ravens, Ardis, 0102and03, Cheshire, Tandorri_Frost, Hexpixie, chain0425, KittyDragoness, WickedWitchoftheWilds, Elina, Hotpotato, UsakoAuditore, seraphem31, iner, maireh, Silenceatemycat and the 31 guests that gave this story kudos!  
> Inspired the Songs:  
> “Roslyn” by Thom Yorke

Chapter Eight 

“Caught in Between Teeth”

* * *

The dawn shined over the peaks in gold beams, slowing chasing the two moons and stars out of the sky. A light mist slithered across the ground, and the morning dew glinted off the leaves and plants like little jewels. Echo’s breath rolled off her tongue, and into the air like a puff of smoke. Her bow was clutched in a steadfast grip, but her heart beat to an uncertain tune. Even as the dawn’s light grew, there were shadows amongst these trees. Unnatural and strange, old memories pressed upon the Veil here ignited by the recent use of magics in this area. Great peaks made of entirely of ice that dwarfed her by at least three feet were scattered across the forest terrain as were the bodies of a great number of templars—twelve if she counted correctly—and perhaps four or five mages. This had to be near the mage’s stronghold. If it had been anything like the King’s Road, there would be an equal amount of templars and mages. Obviously, here was where the mages had an upperhand. Echo wondered if the mage rebellion was trying to be ironic by choosing the Witchwood to hide in. 

Her skin itched and prickled. A restless in her soul that sang in every movement she made, and she knew her companions felt the very same. The way Cassandra’s eyes were narrowed, nostrils flared and jaw clenched tight. Varric was uncharacteristically quiet, and palmed his crossbow for an inch of comfort against unseen enemies around them. Solas with a severe frown upon his brow, and his magic—brittle and harsh—lingered in the air around him, cautiously. All of them were anxious with what they would face. Echo had hoped that maybe more mages would be reasonable like Catherine had been, and yet she could already taste the acidic burn that was left by blood magic. _If any innocents can be spared, I will do so,_ Echo thought to herself, but her heart felt heavy. That was likely an oath that in this instance would not be able to be upheld. 

Her skittishness wasn’t solely attributed to the rebel mages. It was also attributed to the mage that stood at her side. She caught Solas’s gaze as he glanced over at her from the corner of his eye, and her heart thumped against her ribcage, making it very difficult to breath. Memories rolled before her eyes like a film upon the silver screen. _Echo knew that there was no turning back, and bit the bullet. “I know who you are,” her voice quavered as it barely managed to get it passed the huge knot in her throat. “I know that you are Fen’Harel, and I need your help.”_

_A flash of lightning shot through his blue eyes, his entire body went rigid like he was carved from stone and it felt like time itself came to a screeching halt. Only a few seconds of silence stretched between them that felt like eternity, and the weight of it hang in the space between their breaths. He moved so swiftly that Echo nearly missed it; and the chair that he sat it went skidding back a foot. He stood in front of her, and she backed up, the middle of her back smacking into the bar._

_“Solas, I…” Her voice weakened as he caged her with his arms, one of either side of her and his palms flat against the bar top. Her chest shuddered with a sharp breath, and watched as his chin dipped downward, his shoulder canted forward in a way that resembled a prowling wolf. She wished her mind had not made such a comparison right in this moment. “Look I’m sure you have several reasons to keep your identity hidden, and I know…” She paused for a split second when he shifted closer to her, and looked up at him through the fringe of her eyelashes. “Someone knowing who you really are isn’t what you likely wanted.”_

_“Hmm.” Solas reached up, toying with a strand of her hair. The action would have seemed endearing to any bystander, if there were any to be had, and yet there was something wholly predatory in the motion to Echo. Something she had only caught glimpses of before was now on display. She knew that Solas was indeed wise, kind and even humble. He had not faked that. The best mask were true in some fashion, but this was a faucet of his personality that simmered beneath the surface just out of sight that not even someone with a keen eye would have caught. “And you are so certain of the knowledge you possess? That you know who I really am?”_

_Her heart kicked in her throat, realizing this was a different beast than what she was used to dealing with._

_“Herald?” Cassandra’s voice called out from the hallway, interrupting the moment._

Tension trembled between them, explosive and volatile, and any wrong step could set it off into a blaze that she did not think either of one of them would survive. It was like walking a tight line, fighting to keep balance with hurricane winds blasting back her and trying to make her fall. After revealing that she knew his identity only two days ago that strain—the strain that had always been between them—had become suffocating, and she had found that she hated nothing more. _But he’s still here. That meant something right?_ She thought, brows furrowed in a tight knot. He had been avoiding her since then, but he hadn’t fled to parts unknown, so Echo counted that as a small blessing. 

“Hold,” a whisper from the Seeker made the group of four come to a complete stop. “Movement to the left, up ahead.” 

Solas gathered energy from the Fade, and cast runes upon the forest floor just a few yards ahead of them. Whatever was moving would have no way through without hitting one, and Echo notched an arrow back on her bow when a ram burst through the bushes. It bleated when it’s hooves touched the runes, and a blink of an eye later it was frozen solid. The ram collapsed to the side hitting the ground with a solid thud. 

Varric snorted, relaxing ever so slightly. “Guess I know what we’re having for suppe—shit!” The rogue shouted when a shadow dropped from the tree right on him. He barely got Bianca up to use as a shield to block the set of twin daggers that would have pierced clean through his chest. 

Echo whirled around, and went to run to Varric’s aid when a shadow dropped onto her shoulder. She was knocked down into the ground, and before she could even react, a thin piece of wire was wrapped around her throat. She choked, fingers reaching up to claw at the sliver of wire that was being used to strangle her. She thrashed against her attacker—a dwarf—but while smaller than her, he was stout and strong. She could hear Cassandra fighting someone, a third opponent, and caught the shadow of a large hammer upon the ground. She heard the twang of an arrow, and Solas give a sharp gasp of pain. Four against four, it seemed, but their attackers had the element of surprise. 

_Fuck,_ the thought surged through her mind as a blistering wave of panic rushed down from her head to her toes. Rivulets of blood ran down her throat as the wire bit into her flesh, and she clenched her eyes closed. She thought of flames and fire, and suddenly a high pitched scream came from behind her back. There was a rush of heat and the smell of burning flesh, and the weight of the dwarf’s body was off her back. She gagged, her nails pulled the wire off of her flesh and she saw the dwarf dropped his blood to the ground. He rolled around frantically to put the flames out, and Echo grit her teeth, pushing away the rage that flooded through her. If her emotions consumed her and stole her reasoning, she would be an open door for unsavory spirits. Dropping the wire to the ground, she recovered her bow and drew another arrow from her quiver. 

She aimed, and released it. The arrow went straight through the dwarf’s skull, and instantly killed him. No matter how pissed she was about nearly being strangled to death, she was no sadist and ended the dwarf’s suffering swiftly. Ignoring the painful burn around her neck, she turned her eyes onto the rogue who slashed and hacked at Solas. Solas was fighting well against the rogue, using his staff to block the attacks, and Echo shot another arrow across the clearing. It sailed past Solas’s attack and the one who fought Cassandra’s arm to a tree. It gave Cassandra the opening she needed to end the battle. 

It also distracted the rogue, and Solas drove an spike made out of ice straight through the dwarf’s heart. The apostate’s piercing eyes glanced over at Echo, his head tilted the side and his lips pursed together. Echo raised an eyebrow, and gave a shrug of her shoulder as if to say, _What?_

Varric growled, beating the assassin over the head with Bianca until his attacker collapsed to the ground and then shot an arrow straight through his eyeball. A harsh anger darkened the storyteller’s features, and the apple of his throat bobbed. The hands that held his crossbow trembled, and he let out a low curse, “Shit. Shitty shit fucking shit.” 

“Is everyo—” Echo hissed, grasping at her throat. Attempting to talk when her throat was still bleeding, and in need of care was not a smart move. Her fingers reached for her satchel to grasp at her spare potion when cool fingertips pressed against the wound on her neck. She startled, her eyes shot up to Solas who looked down at her with deep frown upon his brow, and she gave a sharp intake of breath when his finger drew across that line, healing her wound. The magic tingled, pinging across her nerves ending pleasantly and soothing away the pain. “Is everyone alright?” Her voice came out husky, and she would blame it on the strangulation. No one needed to know, least of all Solas, that his magic made her hormones get all jumbled, and had her hot under the collar. “You were shot with an arrow.” 

“Superficial wound only, Herald,” Solas replied, inclining his head towards shoulder where his tunic had been torn. It was not a deep wound, and had already stopped bleeding, yet the sight of it made Echo’s stomach tightened unpleasantly with worry. “Nothing to concern yourself over.” 

She tried to play it off as mere concern for Ashlinn. Even though the apostate had agreed to nothing, he was her best bet to get Ashlinn out of the Fade. Even if she couldn’t define what exactly he was to her—enemy? Ally? Friend? Or something else—she knew that he was not a means to an end. He was admittedly more than that to her, even if she didn’t have an exact word or label to describe the connection she shared with the other elf. Gnawing on her lower lip, she looked over to Varric who appeared to have an apoplectic fit. “Varric, what is wrong? Other than the obvious,” Echo wondered, wiping away the blood from her neck. 

Varric didn’t answer right away. The storyteller knelt down by the body of his would-be assassin, and searched his pockets until he found a letter. Breaking the seal, he flipped the paper open and his eyes scanned the words for a moment before he let out another curse. “Shit. Vasca family finally sent their regards like we feared,” Varric said, grimly. “I had been wondering when they would decide to show their ugly mugs. Didn’t think they’d be ballsy enough to attack me when I was with the Herald of Andraste, but I suppose they must blame you to for Edric’s death.” 

Echo’s blood ran cold at the mention of dwarven clan. “Why would I be held responsible for that?” She asked, confused. 

“Come on, Echo, you aren’t thickheaded,” Varric shot her a quick look. “You know as well as I do that if Edric hadn’t been such a coward, he would have sealed the Breach and where do you think that would have landed you? Not as the Herald of Andraste that’s for sure. Edric would have had that pleasure, and the Vasca clan would have had the influence that all surface dwarves strive for.” 

Echo frowned, deeply. The life of most surface dwarves was almost always inexplicably tied to the Merchants’ Guild and the Carta by extension. Gathering influence was a never ending endeavor for the dwarves, and to have a vital position in the Inquisition would have been a once in a lifetime opportunity to gain a firm foothold in the messy politics of Thedas. Not that the Merchant Guild or the Carta didn’t already have a great deal of influence, even if that influence was often used behind closed doors or gained after the unfortunate downfall of a competitor. If the Inquisition does become the force to be reckoned with she supposed the dwarves would be petty enough to be slighted that they missed an opportunity, though it was more Edric’s own actions that took such a chance away from them. Not that these dwarves were choosey on where they laid the blame. She recalled Varric mentioning that they would attack just because he happened to be in the same vicinity as Edric when the carta dwarf was killed by the Pride Demon, and his instincts had been spot on. “They _really_ are a petty bunch, aren’t they?” 

Varric snorted. “No shitting.” 

“And just how are you acquainted with our attackers, Varric?” Cassandra asked, a caustic edge to her voice. She slid her sword back into its scabbard before she placed her hand on her hip while leveling a glare at the storyteller. “And spare me any tall tales. I have little patience for such.” 

“Seeker, I don’t think you even know the meaning of the word patience let alone know how to practice it,” Varric snipped, glibly. He hooked Bianca back in place on his back, and let out a deep sigh. “Look, the Merchants’ Guild makes the Game in Orlais look like child’s play sometimes in comparison. The carta is always looking for influence, and to gain footing in every operation or business, legal…or otherwise,” he added, underneath his breath. “The Vasca family is very well known and prominent Smith Caste that has their fingers in every pot from here to the Free Marches. Even though they are surfacers, they stick to the old ways with the whole caste and casteless bull crap. So a dwarf like me who thumbs his nose at the old ways means we get along like cats and dogs, to put it mildly. Edric happened to be the bastard half-brother of a dwarf that I…don’t get along with. These poor sods were just a calling card.” 

Cassandra drew in a deep breath, her cheeks flushed and eyes glinted with anger. “The fact that neither of you said anything of this threat…” Pinching her brow, she clenched her eyes tightly and muttered a prayer underneath her breath. “Should we suspect more surprises like this one from them?” The Seeker asked, coolly. 

Echo flushed, scratching nervously at her chin. “Uh…well? You know them best, Varric,” she said, feeling rather sheepish underneath the Seeker’s ire. “Do you think they’ll try again?” 

“Depends on their mood, I wager,” Varric said, a chagrin look on his face. “Look first thing I’ll do when we make it back to camp is send a letter to Leliana. I honestly thought this would be a personally problem that I could handle on my own. I never thought…I never thought that any of you would be involved.” 

“It’s not exactly like they would send you a calling card with the when and where,” Echo whispered, with a small shake of her head. “You couldn’t have predicted when or where they would have attacked, Varric.” 

“I know how they operate, Mockingbird,” Varric said, lips twisted in displeasure. “I should have known better, or at least, suspected what they were going to do.” He shook his head side to side, and his golden brown eyes flickered up to where the blood was smeared on Echo’s throat. He couldn’t hide his wince. “I won’t assume again. I’ll get the message to the spymaster, and next time they won’t get close enough to lay a hand on us. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“See that you do,” Cassandra glared, heatedly. Her hands twitched like she would like nothing more than to struggle Varric right in that moment and only a miraculous display of willpower kept her from giving into the impulse. “Such threats cannot be tolerated, especially not the Herald.” 

“Agreed. Now if we are all well enough, share we proceed?” Solas acted as the voice of reason to shift everyone’s attention back onto the quest at hand. He took a step away from Echo, and gave a severe look around the forest around them. “With any luck, the mages would have not heard the commotion and will be none the wiser when we approach their camp.” 

“Right,” Echo said, hiding the tremor of her hands. The burst of adrenaline evaporating in the stillness that followed the attack, and she couldn’t allow herself to become tired. She had to cling to whatever strength she still had in her because she was going to need it when they came across the rebel mages. 

* * *

Solas did not know why he had stayed. He felt like an unwelcomed trespasser the longer he lingered here by her side, ever since she revealed that she knew he was Fen’Harel. It had been one of his worst fears realized, and he should have stolen away in the night when he had the chance. He had hesitated though; part of him reasoned that he must know why she thought this, and if he could convince her that she was simply mistaken. Though he doubted that she would be so easily swayed; he had seen the determination in her eyes, and that desperation, too. Why had she revealed this knowledge to him? The Seeker had interrupted before more could be revealed, and he had been avoiding her ever since then. 

He stood on a great precipice that his well laid plans and machinations hindered on. He could feel it deep within the well of his soul that the choice to stay with the Inquisition, by her side or to leave now instead of continuing this farce would change everything. His hand was clenched in a tight fist, her blood still on his fingertips and he watched her progress through the forest with a heavy gaze. She had kept his identity to herself, otherwise he would have found himself underneath Cassandra’s scrutiny and Varric’s prodding. _To what end did she keep her silence?_ He wondered, his suspicious nature reared its head. 

Solas should leave. He had so much that rested upon his shoulders, and so many sins to account for. There was much he needed to do to correct and right all that his mistakes. That the sins of the past blackened his heart, and pumped through his blood with each passing second. He should go somewhere far away from here, and plan his next move without any distractions. But he didn’t because of her. She was one of the few that survived the creation of the Veil, a bright spot that gave him hope that others could have survived, too. Wisdom had not been there to give him counsel of late. All the other spirits would tell him is that she toiled away to help another soul, and that worried him greatly. Though he knew Wisdom was cautious with whom she dealt with in the Fade, he was always concerned that one day an ignorant mage would come across his friend and turn her against her purpose. 

_“You speak as if you must learn the depths of her knowledge, or gain her trust as if they are separate choices,” Wisdom clucked her tongue, with an eyebrow arched. “The silence may have a reason you might not understand. Perhaps out of fear, or out of confusion. It grants you a window of time, lethallin. A window of time where you can give better reasons, and perhaps gain trust as well.”_

Wisdom’s had been easier to contemplate when there was still a shred of doubt, but now that he knew for certain that Echo was aware of him as the Dread Wolf…it was much more harder for him to consider. What good could come from trying to gain her trust? Why would she give her trust to the mad god who cackled when the rest of the gods were locked away? Stories had painted him as a ruthless and heartless insane villain. Solas did not believe that anyone would see beyond that. He had tried to share his knowledge with the Dalish, only to be rewarded with their scorn and disbelief. 

It was hard to swallow that the hardest choice he ever had to did not have the enlightening effect upon the people that he wished. Some slaved in Tevinter, more in alienages treated like bugs beneath a shoe, and others like the Dalish clung to a past they did not understand. They clung to what they perceive as truth instead of seeing an actual truth, and while he was not pious by any stretch of the imagination, he was not the monstrous Dread Wolf that childhood fables that was told around the campfire. _But was that not the nature of a monster, not seeing themselves as thus,_ Solas thought, a dismal feeling in his heart. 

There in the heart of the woods, was a cave hidden at the base of the large stony cliff and barrier rippled over the entrance. It shimmered and shivered with agitation, and Solas felt his jaw clench tightly, his blue eyes scrutinized the rebel mages that stood guard outside of the barrier. Five was not a great amount in total 

He would stay, if only to learn why. He would stay long enough to see the Inquisition flourish, and to see that Echo was capable enough to seal the Breach and the lingering rifts. As long as they existed, no one was safe. He ignored the part of him that dared suggested that his reason were not so detached, and that he was concerned over Echo’s fate. “I sense a magic disturbance up ahead,” he commented, draw out of his internal monologue when he felt a disruption in the air around them. A _tug_ on the Fade that was a tale tell sign of magic, and someone was pulling quite a lot of energy from the Fade. 

“Up ahead,” he whispered, just loud enough for his companions to hear. 

The Seeker nodded, sharply. 

In the next minute, the world turned into a violent battle. Shouts and magics exploded into the air between them and the rebel mages. There was no chance to speak, or propose peace. The mages attacked immediately on sight, and set them on a defense. Varric fired his crossbow rapidly, while Echo flanked the enemy, and Cassandra charged headfirst into the fray. Solas cast runes to guard them, and then with a sharp thrust of his hand sent a spike of ice clean through a rebel mage’s skull. The body fell to the ground, and Solas’s blue eyes swiveled to where Echo stood. 

She was not disciplined in the art of fighting, and yet she was poetry in motion. Each movement flowed like a river stream into the next, her sole focus on survival and to end things as quickly as possible. She did not relish in the killing, as so many did, but saw it as a necessary evil. She ended the lives of the rebel mages as benevolently as she could. His eyes were drawn to her—too much, too often than he’d like to admit, and he always found himself taken aback when she’d use magic. That potent magic that seeped out of her every pore that served as a reminder to him that she was so much like him; so out of place in this day and age, a remnant of fallen empire and world that was erased from history. 

Except she walked through this world undeterred, not noticing or caring about how much it lacked. How the magic that was once as natural as breathing was so limited, and even more so feared. She treated all those—that would have been considered hollow and less by the elvhen of before—like equals, companions and even as friends. He envied how easily she embraced this new world, and how she did not seem to miss the old one. Solas was not afforded that luxury because the creation of the Veil and the aftermath that affected his people sat squarely on his shoulders. And yet when he watched her, there were times he wished that he could cast it all aside. To be able to choose a different path than to simply erase this world and start anew was a gift not his to take. 

_But if I were…to be proven wrong, perhaps she would be the one to do so,_ Solas thought, casting a barrier just in time to deflect the burst of lightning one of the rebel mages threw his way. Conjuring up a spell, he made spears of fire rain down on from above and two mages went down with cries of pain. 

A sharp yelp made his head jerk towards Echo who threw herself to the ground, and rolled to put out the fire that enveloped her arm. As soon as she was on her feet, she turned and thrust the dagger to the hilt into the chest of the mage who had set her aflame. The dagger pulled free with a wet squelch, and the mage fell to the ground dead. Mismatched eyes scanned the area sharply, looking around to more enemies before she said, “That appears to be the last of them guarding the entrance. Solas, will you be able to dismantle the barrier?” 

“Certainly,” Solas replied, confidently. 

Four sharp bursts of flames, and the icy barrier fell away like shards of broken glass. He could practically taste the tension vibrating through the air, and he looked to the Seeker. “We cannot allow them to keep us trapped at the entrance. The enclosed space would allow them to cast spells at all of us. If we are to best them, then we divide their attentions.” 

“Then we need something to stun them. Something that will allow us to charge in, and take control of the battle,” Echo said, flexing her arm. She winced lightly, the burns a little worse than she assumed. Her shoulder rose as she drew in a deep breath, and her eyes looked to their resident rogue. “Varric, have any tricks up your sleeve?” 

“For you, Mockingbird?” Varric grinned, putting a flask of a brownish yellow liquid out from the satchel on his thigh. “Always.” 

Solas casted a protective barrier around Varric, the dwarf appeared at the mouth of the cave with a cocky grin on his face. “Heads up!” He shouted, throwing the bottle. It sailed through the air, and on reaction, a mage shot a fire spell at it. Which was exactly what Varric had been hoping for. 

The heat shattered the bottle, and caused the liquid inside to ignite and become a thigh smog that surrounded the mages. A potent and pungent smell of black lotus and a twinge of deathroot filled the cavern. The smoke only lingered for a few seconds, but it was all that was needed. While the mages choked and coughed, Varric gave a shout, “Go!” 

Cassandra charged, cleaving her sword through one mage, and used her shield to bash the next. Varric rushed forward, shooting a bolt through a mage that scrambled to hide behind container. The mage fell to the ground, grasping at his knee. Echo rushed by, a dagger sliced through his neck putting a swift end to his pain. 

The battle raged onward. Cassandra had to pull Varric back when after he stepped on a glyph, and ice encased his leg in a painful vice, and he used the wall of the cave as a shelter, peering around it to fire his crossbow ever so often. Echo threw one of her daggers, and it cleaved into a mage’s stomach. The mage doubled over, blood dribbling out of his lips, and she pulled an arrow out of her quiver with one hand while the other grasped her bow. That is when she felt a malevolent rush surge through magic in the air, and a panicked gasped pull from her lips when she saw the mage’s eyes flare red. 

It happened so quickly. His skin molted and bubbled, the muscles beneath it contort as sinew and bone snapped underneath the horrid metamorphosis that overtook his body. The teeth popped free from the gums of his mouth, and black inky ooze began to leak from mouth, eyes, nose and ears. His upper body grew tearing through his clothes; misshaped and bloated, looking like a monster that stalked children’s nightmares, what was once a mage rose off of the ground. “Pitiful little mortals! You are nothing but specks of dust beneath our fingernails! We are freed, and in your blood we shall dance!” 

“Abomination!” Cassandra shouted, in warning. 

“Mockingbird, put distance between that thing and you now!” Varric shouted. 

Solas felt a stab of pity and panic slice through his gut, but he didn’t allow that to cause him to hesitate. He swirled his staff through the air before he swung it in an arc, and a wall of ice shot up from the ground separating Echo from the abomination. She backpedalled until she reached the Seeker and his side, sending him a quick grateful glance. There was a slightly shaken look on her face, a guilt that she felt for what happened. She should not feel guilty. It was regrettable for this to have happened, but she should not shoulder the blame for this. She would, anyways, he realized. She would always feel that there was more that she could do, or that she should have done better. 

“Game plan?” Echo asked, quickly. 

“Solas put up down some runes, and be prepared to heal or shield us when necessary. The less space it has to lash out, the better. Varric get high and don’t stop shooting, unless it comes at you. Echo, you are swift and agile. Use arrow or magic, but keeps the abomination’s focus on you,” Cassandra ordered, her tone severe and grave. “But do not let it get too close. I will do my best to bring it down before any of us get hurt.” 

Solas pursed his lips, but nodded his head in acceptance of the plan. As much as he disliked that this plan of attack would put the Echo—and the mark, he added as an afterthought—in danger, he understood Cassandra’s way of thinking. The mage’s last thoughts and moments were rage fueled towards Echo. It is likely the abomination would be fixated on Echo, thus it was reasonable to allow Echo to bait the creature, while the rest of them brought him down. 

With a savage scream, the abomination broke through the wall of ice and charged at Echo. Solas in a split second cast a fire rune upon the ground, engulfing the enraged abomination in flames. It roared in anger and pain, while Echo shot an arrow at it. “Come on, fugly! You have to be faster than that!” Echo taunted, her tone filled with scorn and derision. It rankled the abomination’s chain, and the creature charged her again. This time she barely scaled up a rock in time to keep out of reach of the creature’s grasp, and Solas saw her flex her arm again. It was more hurt than she let on earlier. 

Varric aimed, shooting his bolts at the abomination’s feet. It pinned the robes to the ground, and the abomination hissed and growled in frustration at being slowed down. With beads of sweat dotting his brow, Solas cast a paralyzing rune underneath the abominations feet and as soon as it took one step it was froze into place. “The face and the heart is where your arrows will do most damage,” Solas called out to Echo, and he saw her give a small nod before adjusting the aim of her arrow. 

Cassandra pounced upon the abomination like a tigress upon a trespasser on her territory. She cleaved her blade through the blotched and broken skin, over and over again. And by the time the paralyze spell faded, the combined efforts brought the abomination done. It shrank and shriveled; the body melting away until it was indecipherable gobble on the floor. Echo wrinkled her nose in disgust, and gagged, lightly. “Oh, that’s so gross,” she whispered, careful to not step in it when she dropped down from the rock. Her gait was slightly awkward, like all the energy had been sapped out of her and she was barely able to stand on her own two feet. “Varric, how is your leg?” 

“Mostly unthawed,” Varric said, shaking said appendage to work warmth and life back into it. “I got the bare edge of that rune, so I think I avoided the worst of it.” 

“Indeed. If you have been standing slightly more to the right, your entire body would have been encased in ice. You would have suffocated in minutes, if aid have been unavailable,” Solas shared, with a hint of a smirk on the corner of his mouth. “As a rogue, I’m surprised you stepped on it at all. Aren’t rogues taught to be evasive of all dangers?” 

“The suffocating was a thing that I really didn’t need to know, Chuckles,” Varric laughed, lightly. “And even rogues can slip up from time to time.” 

“Perhaps, you’re just not as spry as you used to be,” Echo interjected, helpfully. 

Varric threw his hand over his chest dramatically as if Echo just stabbed him, repeatedly. “Mockingbird, are you implying I’m getting old?” The storyteller asked, mock offended. 

“I believe she more than just implied,” Cassandra said, with a hint of a smile. 

Varric looked at the Seeker like his whole world view had just been shifted. “Did you…did you just join in the teasing? Are you feeling well, Seeker? Did you hit your head during the battle?” He asked, half-playful and half-serious. 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “Just because I’m serious and driven, Varric, does not mean that I do not understand the necessity of levity, nor does it mean that I am incapable of joining in,” the Seeker scolded, with arms crossed over her chest. 

“No. No! Of course not,” Varric replied, quickly. He had this itching suspicious that the Seeker was flustered beneath that cool gaze, and now regretted that she even attempt to join in their banter. “Just not a side to you that I’m used to seeing is all. Took me by surprise.” 

Cassandra gave an unladylike snort. “We should head back to the Crossroad. We are weary, and need rest. We cannot approach the Templar encampment in the condition we are now,” she informed Echo, ignoring the dwarf entirely now like he was a leper. 

She was right, of course. The number of mages had been more than they had been prepared for, and to regroup and re-supply would be a necessity. The only camp that they could reach would be the one established outside of the horsemaster’s farm. A few scouts were sent to sneak past the battlefield, and set up camp to protect the farmers from any Templars or mages that would cross the king’s road. The path to the Inquisition would lead them straight through where the Templars had set up. It was too risky, and Solas watched as Echo ran hands tiredly down her face before she nodded. “Alright. Back to the Crossroads, we go.” 

* * *

The trek back to the Crossroads ate up all the daylight they had left, and a bright red sunset sat upon the horizon as they marched up the long road. People greeted them, cheerfully, in passing. The moral of the refugees greatly improved since the food and blankets had been passed about. With the mages down and out, it should be easier for the hunters to go out. However, the Templars still posed a problem. “How were the reports about the mage stronghold wrong?” Echo asked Cassandra. 

“The mages and templars had been in the Hinterlands long before the Inquisition. It is possible that the many of the mages were already in the depths of the stronghold, and only few ever left, giving the illusion that their numbers were fewer than what they appeared,” Cassandra answered, grim-faced. “That would be the preferred reason behind this.” 

“And the not preferred one?” Varric asked. 

“That one of scouts intentionally misled us,” the Seeker exhaled. 

Echo hoped that wasn’t the case. They had enough enemies in front of them; they didn’t need any at their back ready to pounce, especially ones that wore the guise of friendship. She scrubbed at her cheek, grimacing at the thick layer of grime and dirt that coated her skin. A good bath was something she was sorely in need of, but first, they needed to inform Corporal Vale of what happened. She hadn’t met the Corporal officially. Cassandra had been handling those affairs, but she knew couldn’t always count on Cassandra to be her go-between. “Solas, Varric, why don’t you go find us a place where we can set up camp out of way of the refugees? Cassandra and I need to have word with the Corporal.” 

“As you wish,” Solas nodded. The storyteller and apostate broke off from the group, and Echo started up the hill towards Vale’s tent. Her legs ached and strained all the way the incline, and she felt ready to drop like a sack of potatoes. She clung to her purpose, just telling herself once they spoke to Vale then they could rest, and that helped her finish the climb. The Corporal’s tent was slighter bigger and more ornate than the rest of the recruits. His voice was audible from clear across the camp, where he barked instructions at the training soldiers, correcting them on posture and the like. His eyes flickered with a brief surprise at their approach, and he said something to the scout next to him before he turned on heel to greet them. 

“Corporal Vale,” Cassandra introduced them, officially, “this is Echo Harper, better known as the Herald of Andraste.” 

Echo repressed a snort for Cassandra’s sake. 

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Grace,” Corporal Vale greeted her, pleasantly. He took her hand in a firm and strong handshake, not bashful in slightest. He held himself in a ramrod straight posture, and his hazel eyes filled with genuine warmth. “I’ve seen you in passing, but I fear that we’ve not the pleasure to be acquainted formally. With so much to be done in the Hinterlands, I fear that we’ve both have our plates quite full. Though yours is probably more full than most, what with all the Fade Rifts sprouting up.” 

“My plate is fuller than some, true,” Echo smiled, her hand dropping to her side. “You’ve accomplished quite a lot from what I have seen. The Crossroads are once again peaceful, and I know that you and your men have gone out of your way to repair some of the homes around here among other things. The Inquisition is lucky to have such generous hearts on their side.” 

“You flatter me, Your Grace,” Corporal Vale said, turning pink at the unexpected praise. “But I suppose it is too much to hope that you are here just to flatter me, and not because something else has gone amiss?” 

“Sadly it is, Corporal,” Cassandra responded, lightly. “And it would be best to disclose what happened in privacy.” 

A flash of surprise flickered through the Corporal’s eyes, before his expression became stern and staunch. “Of course. Right this way,” he nodded, gesturing for them to proceed. Echo entered the tent right behind Cassandra, and the Corporal closed the flap as he brought up the rear. “I take it that the plan of attack on the mage stronghold did not go as well as expected?” 

“Indeed not. While we have cleared the stronghold, and scouts should be sent in to clean the bodies and recover anything of value things were more difficult than we anticipated,” Cassandra confessed, reluctantly. “The mages numbers were greater than what reports had speculated. I wish to ascertain why our reports were so wrong, and to figure out if the reports about the templars are also mistaken.” 

Corporal Vale grimaced, then settled down into the chair in his tent, and Cassandra eased into the one beside him while Echo took the seat adjacent. “If our reports were wrong about their numbers, and it was not a honest mistake, then we have to figure out what exactly went wrong. I’ll send a missive to the Lady Nightingale and have words with Scout Harding to keep an eye and ear out for anything suspicious. I’m assuming that you will want reinforcements to accompany you on your way to the Templar encampment.” 

“Anyone that can be spared would be appreciated,” Echo said, softly. 

Corporal Vale nodded. “I can gather a group together. This may be wise chance to get some supplies to the camp at the farms. The farms will be closer to the Templar camp than the Crossroads, and the safer choice at the end of the day to rest after a battle. Assuming you’ll be able to clear the area of templars, that is.” 

Echo glanced over at Cassandra, who nodded. “Alright. Have your men and supplies ready by tomorrow morn. The sooner we deal with the trouble at the King’s Road, the better,” she affirmed, before she rose up out of the seat. “I would love to stay and chat further, but after a long day and having another one ahead, I am going to need a good night’s rest. It was nice to meet you, Corporal.” 

“Ah, the pleasure is all mine, Herald.” 

Echo ducked underneath the tent flap, hearing the tail end of Cassandra’s parting words, and made her way down the hill. She moved around the outer edge of the recruits training, and popped her neck to relieve some of the ache that had built up at the base of her skull. The relief only lasted a few second before it returned with a vengeance, and she winced lightly. Her bed roll sounded more and more appealing by the second, but the tiny growl from her empty stomach reminded her that it had been a while since the last time she had eaten. And she had eaten barely enough for a bird, as Varric so told her. She gave passing smiles to people, trying to appear as genially as possible. This Herald of Andraste image was one that the Inquisition expected her to cultivate, and use to gain influence and allies. It felt like rope that had been wrapped around her neck on good days, and on bad ones, she felt like she had already been strung up. 

She only hoped that feeling stayed that. Just a feeling. The last thing she wanted to do was follow Andraste into the afterlife of martyrdom. That was something she could live without. After the quickest trip to the communal bath house--she missed having privacy--her and Cassandra found Varric and Solas. The dwarf and elf had made camp just up the hillside past the waterfall, and a good distance from the bustling part of the Crossroads. Echo folded the sleeve of her arm back, and glanced down at the burns. The skin blistered and an angry red, she would need to get it look at though it was not necessarily bad enough to waste an entire potion on. 

“Bunny stew,” Varric said, with a flippant grin as the two women settled down by the fire that Solas was working on cultivating. He ladled a good portion into a bowl, before he shoved it into Echo’s hands with the look of a mother hen on his features. A comparison that Varric didn’t care for. “Eat up.” 

For a moment, Echo played idly with the wooden spoon. She dipped it into the thick broth, and swirled it around before she scooped up a healthy bite. She nearly moaned as the meat fell apart on her tongue like butter. It wasn’t the best tasting stew she had ever had, but it was by far better than the cold slop they had for breakfast--though truth be told her stomach would have been even happy with that. Taking another bite, she listened as Cassandra dutifully informed the other two about the plans for tomorrow. 

“Back up is always good,” Varric nodded, pleased. He passed Cassandra a bowl of stew, with extra bits of meat just the way she liked it. “And you’ll be happy to know, Seeker, that I already penned a letter to send to our resident spymaster. I’m passing it off to Scout Harding in the morning.” 

Once the fire was going on it’s own, Solas took a place just to the right of Echo and broke the loaf of breath into the four pieces. He passed a piece to each of them, before he took the bowl of soup that Varric made him. Cassandra reached into her bag, and pulled out the waterskin. She poured it into the metal cups that Varric had borrowed from the refugee camps below, and as Echo passed Solas’s his cup, “Look us being all domestic. Break bread, and sitting around the campfire.” 

“We’ve been doing that for over a week, nearly two,” Varric gave her a strange look. “It’s nothing new.” 

“Yes, it is. The first few days we had to ask, ‘Can you pass this? Can you hand me that?’ And now look us developing a system. We are working together like a well-oiled machine,” Echo said, chuckling to herself. “I don’t know why that just struck me now. Maybe it’s because now I feel that we are really starting to accomplish something. I mean, I knew we were before, but now I can actually see it.” 

“And we will see much more in the time to come,” Cassandra smiled, her gaze flickered around them as if she saw exactly what Echo meant. “There is still so much to be done, but you are right. You can already see and feel the change.” 

“A change that will bring more allies and even more enemies to your doorstep,” Solas cautioned them. 

“Thanks for the daily dose of cynicism, Chuckles,” Varric laughed. “You always know how to lighten a mood.” 

The meal was finished in relative silence, beyond Cassandra telling them that they were to meet the group of soldier in the morning, and devise a strategy for taking down the Templar camp at dawn. Echo finished her stew, and handed it off to Varric, whose turn it was to clean the bowls and cups. She sat there with her knees curled up to her chest by the fire long after the rogue and Seeker had turned in for the night. Her thumb brushed the edge of her burn, while she looked up with wide eyes at the stars. The constellations were nowhere near the same as the ones on Earth, but beautiful nonetheless. Fenris had taught her some of them, but they never got the chance to finish before she had to flee from Kirkwall. Sometimes, she entertained ideas about would have happened if she had stayed. Would she have been able to tell something was wrong with Anders, who could never lie to her? Would she had been forced into the Circle, and slaughtered by Templars on the day the Chantry exploded? Or would she have been made Tranquil before any of that happened? Life could have turned out so differently if she had stayed in the chaotic life that went hand in hand with the city of Kirkwall. She supposed that either way she would have been caught in one disaster or another. Whatever fate had in store for her it was never something simple and everyday normal. 

“Herald?” Solas said, gently. 

“Hmm?” She was pulled out of her thoughts when Solas’s hand brushed her shoulder. A sharp burst of electricity sizzled across her skin at the contact, and her head jerked up to look up at him. “Sorry, did you say something Solas? I fear I was doing a bit of woolgathering.” 

A quiet smile crossed his features, before his hand slid down to stop just short of her burns. “These should have been looked at a while ago. May I?” He asked for permission, and at her nod, he knelt down to examine the burns. “If not for you quick thinking, then these burns would have been undoubtedly worse. I can create a paste to ease the pain, and help the skin to heal faster, if you wish.” 

“If it is no trouble,” Echo said, after a moment. 

“It is none. It is a relatively simple combination of elfroot and embrium,” the apostate replied, his voice carrying a contemplative lilt. “Where did your thoughts lead you, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

Echo paused, surprised that he would ask. It gave her a margin of hope, and she let out a quiet breath. “Just thinking about how far I have come. All the people and places that I miss, and wondering where I’d be if things had turned out differently. A far deal worse than where I am at, I believe. It’s so strange to think of myself as the Herald of Andraste. Stranger still to hear everyone call me it, and look at all these people that flock to the Inquisition searching for faith, purpose, or a second chance of all things,” Echo commented, eyeing the dying crowd down below with a touch of awe and disbelief in her voice. “All because they believe I have been sent by the Maker. It’s mind boggling, isn’t it?” 

A brow ticked upward, and Solas regarded her curiously. “You say the words ‘second chance’ with a hint of skepticism. Do you not believe in giving second chances?” Solas asked, pulling the ingredients for the paste out of his satchel. 

Echo frowned, gnawing on her lower lip. “I believe that real and true second chances are rare. I believe that most people say they want a second chance, but nobody really wants to start over. Most people just want to be able to pick up where they left off, wherever things got turned about and went wrong. They just want to start in a new direction without any of the remorse or consequences of the choices they made before that point. But only a lucky few manage that.” 

Solas cast a frown down at her. “You have been given a second chance, have you not?” He commented, studying her with a contemplative stare. “Waking up from Uthernera--a sleep so deep that most ancient elves use it as a way to ease into death--and finding yourself with good companions. The Champion of Kirkwall to take you underneath his wing, and helped you find your footing in this brave new world. A second chance, a new lease on life is what you have in front of you, lethallan.” 

“You’d think that, right? But somehow I don’t feel all that lucky,” Echo responded, with a self-deprecating grin. She tilted her head backwards, to look up at him. Moonlight seemed to be drawn to him, enhancing a glow that seemed to radiate from within him; the way light and shadow danced across the planes of his face would have made many artists green with envy for what they tried to capture in paintings, would only pale in comparison to the man before her. _He has to be a good kisser with lips like those,_ she thought, her stomach fluttered feeling as if she had swallowed a handful of butterflies. A mortified blush stole into her cheeks, and she mentally scolded herself for noticing that. She didn’t even know where she stood with Solas, let alone entertain lustful thoughts about him. 

_Oh, those eyes were dangerous_ , Solas thought, quietly. Beautiful mismatched colors that glinted with life and amusement, peering up at him through long, thick lashes. The sheepish curl to her pink lips as they stretched into a smile that made a heat simmer low in his gut, and forced him to look away before thoughts could start to take shape behind his mind’s eye. The woman was completely unaware of how beautiful she was, and how just a look managed to test his self-control. He had forced himself under the guise of a mentor, a simple of apostate, but she knew what he really was. Who he really was. One by one every reason he had to maintain a healthy distance from her seemed to shatter, and she did it without even trying. 

“Sometimes, you are so aloof and distance…it’s like you don’t care about anything,” Echo commented, in her quiet way. The soft spoken tone she got when she was serious, and the way her brows would raise ever so slightly, her eyes wide with eager to learn and see everything. “And then other times like now, you speak with such care. So mindful of your words, and your curiosities. 

“I care…about a great number of things,” Solas replied, setting a bowl down beside them on the cavern floor. He did not wear his heart upon his sleeve; he learned not to when he was nothing more than an elvhen child to be selective with whom he shared his joys and sorrows. Though he held himself at a distance, he did care immensely for the world around him. He did not wish to see the once bright spark of life that was now dulled and flickered like a tip of the candle out in the rain to go out entirely, and with it gone, so many things would vanish entirely from existence. Sometimes, he felt that he cared too much, and went too far to preserve a world that was lost. He just couldn’t let it die, not when there was something he could do to right that wrong. “I may not express myself with a fierce faith that Cassandra does, or with the witty sarcasm that Varric employs, but I do care in my own ways.” 

“You keep yourself distant,” Echo said, head tilted. “Is it because you are afraid?” 

Solas’s blue eyes flickered towards her, luminous like the full moon above, and his lips tilted downward along the edges. “What is that you are looking for, lethallan? What answer do you seek?” He finally asked, crushing the leaves of an elfroot plant between his fingers. The minty and fresh odor fragranced the air, and he dropped the leaves into the bowl before using a wood spoon to break them down further. He mixed in the petals of the embrium flower, thick and when crumpled, a red liquid pooled out of them. It was thick like honey, and mixed with the elfroot became a paste. With careful fingers, he coated his fingers in the paste and the other hand grasped her burnt arm. 

Her mouth trembled open, and she looked stupefied that he, in his subtle and sly way, was broaching the taboo subject of Fen’Harel. It amused him ever so slightly, even as his heart shuddered warily inside of his chest. He watched the thoughts flickered in her mismatched gaze, as she weighed her options, and she let out a slow breath. “I know that…” Her eyes glanced over at the entrance, to check that Varric and Cassandra were not about to walk back in. “I know that every story has kernel of truth to it, but maybe the monster the Dalish claim that you are isn’t the whole truth of it. I…I know it’s not the whole truth.” 

Solas felt his mouth go dry, and a fist of fear squeeze at his gut. It took every ounce of self-control he had to grip his grip on her arm from becoming painful, and his voice was sharp, more than he meant it to be. “And what truth do you think you know, Herald?” 

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he found his eyes drawn to the motion in fascination. More fascination than he should have. “Chains made of ink, burning against my flesh. Ever since I remembered, I sometimes can feel them still there. Can feel something pulling me against my will,” Echo admitted, quietly. Her eyes stared up unblinkingly into his, and she held herself so still like a frightened fennec yet in spite of that fear, she continued onward, “And you made the vallaslin vanish. You made it go away. You freed me, and asked for nothing in return.” 

The air inside of him rushed out when his heart slammed painfully against his ribs, and he felt that he must have misheard her. However, the longer she stared up him with wide and earnest eyes, he realized he hadn’t misheard at all. The emotions that overtook him were too great to number, and he breathed in deeply while raking his hand down his quaking jaw. He scoured his memory for her face, searching to place her amongst the countless of others he had freed. But in shame he couldn’t remember. It was a strange feeling that encumbered his soul. Guilt and regret had weighed on him so heavily; seeing the Dalish still enslaved to the past, and the city elves oppressed, not to mention those enslaved in Tevinter. To see that a small—a tiny bit of good—still existed from all he fought for made that guilt ease away for a split second. 

It took him several heartbeats where he worked the elfroot leaves and embrium paste gently onto her burns before he found his voice again. “Let us say that you are correct about just who and what I am, lethallan. What do you gain from telling me all this?” He asked, his blue gaze bore in hers. 

“Because I need your help. I’m not going to sugar coat or try to come up with a reason that makes it sound less selfish,” Echo said, her eyes downcast. The nerve endings in her arm felt too sensitive, and she felt painfully aware of his touch. The slight sting from the burn that was soothed over by the herbs, and there was a slight tingle in her gut. “So I’m willing to believe that at your core you are good, no matter what truth is in those stories or what wrongs you have committed. You are the only person in the world that I can think of that can help me now, and I have to believe that there is genuine good inside of you. Not just for my sake, but for my friend’s.” 

Solas stared at her hard, like he was trying to construe just what she would need the Dread Wolf’s help with. It was certainly not Varric, the only one that he could think that would be a friend that she was so loyal to that would cause her to dare a mad god’s wrath. _Or perhaps the strange woman in the Fade. The woman that felt out of place, and wrong,_ Solas wondered, a flare of concern and suspicion rose in his heart. He had thought the other woman to be a demon, but she did not have the scent of one. Nor did she have the scent of a spirit. Was he so greatly diminished that he had been mistaken? That he had slipped up and allowed a demon or questionable spirit close to the Herald? He had took great pains to guard her from a distance in the Fade, since she was a rather lucid dreamer, to be there in case she had a nightmare to drive her demons away. Perhaps, he should have stayed closer. Perhaps, a demon clever enough not to attack through nightmares had approached Echo, and now was trying to trick her. It was entirely possible that he was assuming the worst, but better that than to have no caution, at all. 

“Please,” her voice cracked around the word, though she fought tooth and nail to keep her composure. The guilt pierced through her, the painful awareness that she hurt her friend burrowed through her brain, taking over her thoughts at any given moment. She had to make this right, and she needed Solas’s help. “I made a horrible mistake, and now my friend, Ashlinn, is paying for it. She should have to, and you are the only person I can trust with this. Please.” 

“So this has been the dark cloud over your head these last few days,” Solas whispered, his gaze shrewd. He was all too aware of the hum in his blood, the steady beat of his heart, and the warmth of her skin beneath the palms of his hand. To be needed and trusted were things that people often too for granted. It had been such an agonizing long time since he had been either. She did not understand the weight of her words, he told himself. She just couldn’t. “If you are willing to risk yourself at the hands of the Dread Wolf, you must truly be desperate indeed.” 

Echo held his stare, not wavering. “I would get down on my hands and knees and beg you if I knew that would make you any more inclined to help,” she told him, unashamed. There were no lengths that she wouldn’t go to save the people that she loved. 

There were moments that defined a person. Moments that could alter the course of history, or change a person’s path. Solas knew in his soul that this was such a moment, a moment that could mean salvation or damnation for him, and for the life of him he could not ascertain which answer would lead to what conclusion. His heart and his mind screamed to very different answers, and his jaw clenched when he felt her tremble. She risked so much--and much more still--to protect those around her, stranger and friend alike. There was so much good in her, a type of good that he once tried to emulate and uphold, but he felt like an actor compared to her genuine and openhanded heart. Sometimes goodness and faith like that should be reward, and before he could even doubt or stop to think whether it should be his place to do such, he replied, “I will help you.” 

And like that, his choice was sealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Solas is really struggling here. In the Game, with Canon! Herald of Andraste, Solas always knew that there were reasons why he could not be with her. However, justified or unjustified you find that, they were his reasons. His identity: he feels that no one, especially a Dalish as the Canon player is, would understand and would see him solely as a monster that legend has painted him as for years. One layer of distance. His path: Wrong or right, Solas is doing what he feels is best. He truly believes by tearing down the Veil, he will make the world a better place. He is open, as he says in the Trepasser DLC, to be proven wrong. He even says to the Inquisitor, the he hopes to be proven wrong. Time: It has been a long time Solas has been able to open up and trust. He was in a war with the other Elvhen Gods, who some were close as family to him if stories be true, and then afterwards he locked then away falling into a slumber. Any friends he had, even some spirits, would likely have been already gone, or gone by the time he woke. He’s lost a lot, and he doesn’t want to feel that pain. He doesn’t want to open himself up to it. However, with Echo: she already knows his identity, she is willing to place her faith and trust in his despite the stories because of a memory, her very existence and her actions already have him questioning his past from the get go instead of three years later when he’s already starting to go through with his plans. She is slowly opening his eyes and his heart, and that’s tough on him. It’s going to be tough on both of them, but in this chapter, I feel Solas--even though he will still fight it down the road--has kind of accepted the inevitability of this connection and this relationship with Echo. He doesn’t know that it will deepen into love, just yet, but he can’t deny that she is changing him and his path, for good or ill.


	9. All These Still Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lateness of the update. Been very busy with real life and had a bunch of things happen. I lost my dog, Jack, being the worst. He was old, but it was still painful to have to have him put down. He’s in a better now, I hope. I also have been working on getting some of my other stories down, that way I have less of boatload to juggle. I also have made the promise that should I start another fic, it won’t be posted until I am done with it, or have several chapters done in advance. So hopefully this new system will make updates swifter. Wish me luck. :D
> 
> I want to thank Watchtower2806, AxZi, LethargicDynamo, Gygapudding, SaltyStalker, Arradess, Eirdaru, misha_stardream, Matsurikoi, ToasterMuffan, Ageemarie, redcoconutcurry, Garbagio, Chitsukii, Valsheress, April_Marciano, AliFenZevSolAlways, Anna_Donovan, silverfox2011, drdada, SeekerofAstridFae, Chansisen, Icefrog, Fenesvir, Viji, Misokitty, Polli, Jade_Blanc, mid_2_Knight, DragonBaby2559, Brie88, AEMoore, figmentz, Saquira, Wobulator, TelegenicLotus, Wellmadedust, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, auntjilly89, 13_Ravens, Ardis, 0102and03, cheshiire, Darling_Angel, Hexpixie, chain0425, KittyDragoness, WickedWitchoftheWilds, Elina, Hotpotato, UsakoAuditore, seraphem31, iner, maireh and Silenceatemycat and 38 guests who left kudos!  
> I want to thank Lily, Brie88, Crymsm, KittyDragoness for the comments!  
> I want to thank misha_stardream, ToasterMuffan, Ageemarie, ellanarei, April_Marciano, drdada, SeekerofAstridFae, AEMoore, figmentz, Wobulator, AlwaysQuesting, dingo_dog, chaino425, millie435, for all the bookmarks!  
> Chapter Inspired:  
> “Help, I’m Alive” by Metric  
> “Gimme Sympathy” by Metric

Chatper Eight 

“All These Still Moments”

“I will help you,” Solas said. 

Her heart pounded in her chest, the sheer relief shattering the walls she had held up high around her for so long. Walls that kept her emotions—fear, hope, and so much more carefully leashed up, and she felt the swell of tears burn in her eyes. Four tiny words made her expression crumble and she covered her face with her hands, a soundless sob wrenched up out of the depths of her soul. She never imagined he would actually agree. Oh, she had hoped against all hope that he would, but to hear the words out loud, and realize he _meant_ them had hit her with a force she hadn’t anticipated. The heavy burden, amongst others she had been carrying, halved by one sentence, and she pressed her hand over her lips as if to quell the urge to breakdown completely. 

She stood there, quaking and rooted to the spot. She was trying to pull herself together, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t seem to do it. She startled when she felt Solas’s hands on the back of hers, and he gently pried her hands carefully away from her face. Her red rim eyes were fixated on her feet, and her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment at allowing him to see her so vulnerable. 

His long and powerful fingers circled around her wrists, not binding, but reassuring. “Hush, lethallan,” his voice was low, barely more than a whisper above the wind. When she refused to raise her head, he reached up with his left hand to grasp the point of her chin and tilted her head back until her eyes clashed with his. There was a quiet sorrow that eclipsed with his face at whatever he found in her expression, and he began again, “Hush, Echo. Save your tears for a time when they will need to be spent. For now, take comfort that you no longer have to bear this alone, and I will do everything in my power to help you,” he told her, releasing her chin. He lifted his hand, hesitated for a half a second, before his knuckles grazed her cheek and wiped away the tears. 

Echo flinched, slightly. She had not expected him do something like, and she caught a flicker of something across Solas’s masked expression. It looked as if he was scolding himself inwardly for taking such a liberty, but he made no attempt to explain or apologize, so Echo allowed the moment to slip by unmentioned. “ _Ma Serannas_ , Solas,” she croaked out, her chest shuddered with a shaky breath. She wrapped her arms around herself, and took a half a step back to put a little bit of distance between the two. “You have no idea what this means to me.” 

Solas gave a small, quiet smile. “Thank me if I am able to do something for your friend,” the apostate told her, his slate gaze growing distant with a memory. “And I believe I may have a better idea than you might think.” 

Echo bit her lower lip. She wondered what put such a look in his eyes, what could cause such shadows, but it was not her place to ask. Rubbing her arms to fight off the growing chill, she looked at him through her eyelashes. “We should…we should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow,” she said, awkwardly. She hated the aftermath of an emotional outburst, even less when she wasn’t sure how to return to a status quo. But really did she ever have a status quo when it came to Solas? Dragging her hands down her face, she breathed out, “We have to be at our best when facing the Templars.” 

“Sound logic,” Solas inclined his head. 

“Goodnight, Solas,” Echo said, softly. 

“Goodnight, Echo. I hope the Fade finds you well.” 

The Fade did find her well later that night, after she parted ways with Solas and curled into her bedroll. No demons or spirits attempted to approach her. She was left alone in a beautiful meadow bathed in moonlight and warmth of a summer night. She had spent the night, soaking up the solace and running her fingers across the lilies and lilacs. And every so often, she swore she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. It was a dark wolf like shadow that stalked through the trees with multiple red eyes that peered at her curiously. The Fade melted away, the tangible dream mushed and fragmented when she was pulled out of the dream by a shout. 

Echo was on her feet in an instant, her daggers that lay within reach in the palm of her hands in the blink of an eye. It was these swift reflexes she had honed on her travels out of paranoia and camping alone; as Merrill had once said, a solitary elf is prey to anyone. Her heart pounded in her chest with _thhhh—rumph! Thhh—rumph_ and her breaths were harsh to her own ears. She stumbled out of her tent, and had to blink wildly against the breaking dawn. Shielding her eyes, Echo peered around the camp, but saw no sign of any enemies. Instead she saw a terrified looking Varric do his best to stay out of an irate looking Seeker’s grasp. Her daggers dropped to her sides, and she watched the scene unfold with a baffled expression on her face. 

The Seeker prowled around the campfire that Varric tried to keep between them. Cassandra slanted him a look that could well prove the demise of any man, even that of a wily dwarf. “Do not think your silver tongue can charm your way out of this, Varric!” She had a piece of parchment clutched in her fist, and shook it angrily at him. “Do you think yourself funny? Do you think yourself clever?” 

“Every damn day,” Varric quipped, just a hint of nervousness that belied his bravado. His eyes stared at the Seeker, his body tensed as if her were ready to bolt at any given second. “Now mind telling me what this is really all about, Seeker?” 

Echo wavered on a step forward. Part of knew she should break them up before it came to blows, but at the same times, part of her couldn’t tear her eyes away. It was like watching a train wreck. 

“Don’t act innocent! I know it was you who left this—this—” Cassandra stammered, on her anger and rage. “Vulgar and tasteless piece of tripe you call poetry on my bedroll!” 

“Poetry?” Varric barked out a laugh. “I don’t do poetry, Seeker. I’ve got no patience for flowery words, and sentimental crap to even try my hand at it. You’ve got the wrong dwarf!” 

“Bullshit,” Cassandra snapped. 

Echo blinked her bleary eyes before she set her daggers down against her tent, and gave a deep sigh before she stepped forward to put an end to the fight before Cassandra decided to give into the impulse to kill Varric. Judging by the vein that throbbed at the Seeker’s temple, it was very close to happening. “Alright, enough! Enough! Your shouting is likely scaring the poor refugees!” She told both of them, with a sharp look of disapproval. Her words made both Cassandra and Varric freeze as if the thought hadn’t occurred to them. “Now…what is going on here? Cassandra, you said something about a poem?” 

Cassandra’s cheeked turned beet red. “Yes. A poem that the dwa—that someone,” she rephrased, carefully. Her dark eyes were still narrowed into slits and glaring daggers at Varric. “Left this poem on my bedroll for me to find after I returned from speaking to Corporal Vale.” 

“And you think that Varric did it?” Echo asked, slowly. 

“Who else do you know that would go out of their way to mock me in such a manner?” The Seeker huffed, darkly. 

Varric snorted, his lips twisted. “I supposed I should feel complimented that you think I have the balls to dare to write you a poem, let alone leave it in your tent, Seeker,” the dwarf said, sarcastically. “But despite what you may think of me, I don’t have a death wish.” 

Echo gave Varric a quelling look. Something told her that his input would only make Cassandra ire grow, and that his silence would ensure that she could get to what was really going on here. “What does it say, Cassandra, that has you so upset?” The female elf inquired, with a slight frown on her lips. 

“It says…” the Seeker paused, an uncharacteristic sheepish flickered across her proud features. Her entire body was tensed like it had been carved from a mountain, and her jaw was clenched, her dark eyes looked away. She held out the paper in a tight fist, and her brows furrowed together in a knot. “Just…just read it for yourself.” 

Echo carefully pried the piece of parchment from the Seeker’s grasp, and unfolded it to lay eyes on the poem that had the other woman in a rage. “Ooooooh,” Echo said, pressing her fingers over her mouth. She glanced at Cassandra quickly and then back at the paper just as fast. For a moment, she couldn’t say anything. She had read many things in her life, but this had to be the most bloody awful poem in the whole wide world. “That’s…that’s wow. I really thought it couldn’t be as bad as you said, but it’s actually worse. I mean, that is a unique metaphor for…” She trailed off, her tone awkward and sheepish. She folded the poem delicately, and held it out to Cassandra. “I honestly don’t know whether you should be insulted or flattered.” 

“There is nothing flattering about this,” Cassandra said, flatly as she took the poem back. 

“But it’s not Varric’s handwriting,” Echo told the Seeker, with an apologetic smile. She was half afraid that this was going to trigger another fight, except this time she’d be the target. “I would know his writing in a heartbeat, and it’s not it. Varric is truly innocent. Well, in this, at least.” 

Varric rolled his eyes, slightly. “Thanks, Mockingbird. Way to sell my innocence.” 

Cassandra considered Echo, carefully. “You aren’t just saying that to help him weasel out of this, are you?” She asked, frowning deeply. 

Echo laughed. “No, no, I’m not. Believe me if he had wrote something that horrible, I would be teasing and taunting him mercilessly with it. He’d never be able to live it down.” 

Cassandra frowned. “I suppose I was too hasty to pass judgment.” 

“You think?” Varric whispered, underneath his breath. 

The Seeker gave him a glare, before she tossed the poem to the fire intent on seeing the parchment go up in flames. However, Varric’s dexterous hand caught it before it became ashes. “You dare!” Cassandra roared. 

“You are damn right I do!” Varric fired back. “I think I deserve to read this piece of tripe I was accused of having written and almost beheaded for.” 

“You—you—” the Seeker couldn’t formulate a response. 

“Varric, perhaps you shouldn’t,” Echo said, a feeling of trepidation curled hot in her stomach. She shot a worried look at Cassandra, and wondered if she was even capable of holding the Seeker back should she charge. 

“What a load of garbage!” Varric stared balefully at the words written on the paper. “You are right, Seeker. You shouldn’t feel flattered by this poem. It’s horrific with its clichéd rhymes, and the metaphors—Maker’s breath.” 

“You do not have to be so amused!” Cassandra hissed. 

“They call your hair black as—” 

“I think that she knows what it says, Varric,” Echo interrupted him, her voice an octave too high. She could literally see Varric’s death flash right before her eyes. With each second, he was digging himself a deeper and deeper grave. “It would be best to burn it just like she wanted to do, I think.” 

“And someone who does not write poetry shouldn’t be judge,” spat Cassandra, heat infused into her cheeks from embarrassment and anger. 

Varric shifted, his shoulders were taut. He looked vaguely offended, though Echo wasn’t sure why. His brown eyes narrowed, just a fraction and the parchment crinkled in his hand, he had it clutched in in a knuckle white grip. “I might be shit at poetry, that’s fair, but even I could do a better job than this. I wouldn’t compare your hair to a raven, but the moonless night. I wouldn’t just compliment your beauty. You aren’t some fluttery and dainty noble that clings to your vanity. You cherish your ability to fight, so I would put emphasis on your fiery spirit and the passion in which you battle and—” The dwarf broke off, suddenly at the wide eyed looks sent his way by both Echo and Cassandra. In a split second, the heat that had infused his gaze was replaced by a discomfited look. “I would write…something like that,” he finished, abruptly. He tossed the paper into the fire without preamble, and turned on heel to walk away. 

“What…what was that?” Cassandra demanded, to no one in particular. 

Echo stared at the dwarf’s retreating figure, with a growing suspicion in her mind. She was going to corner him later, and force an explanation for his behavior—though she would bet every gold coin in her money pouch that she knew exactly what troubled the dwarf. “What did Corporal Vale say?” She asked, changing the subject from Varric’s bizarre behavior. 

“He is understandably worried about us going to the Templar encampment with the troubles we faced with the mages, but he knows that time is not something we can spare,” the Seeker replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her stern-face expression was firmly back in place, and she hid whatever feathers had been ruffled from the poem and Varric. “The garrison that is to accompany us awaits, ready to leave at our leisure.” 

Echo nodded. “Then let’s not keep them waiting. Oh,” her mismatched gaze flickered towards Solas’s tent, “is Solas still sleeping or do we need to round him up?” She had a hard time believing he had been able to sleep through the shouting, but then again, some people slept like the dead through anything. 

“Asleep as far as I know,” Cassandra told her. 

“I’ll wake him then,” Echo offered. 

“Herald, I do not know if that is a good idea. Where there are eyes, there are rumors that will follow, and it would be unseemly to all you go unescorted into a man’s tent,” the Seeker said, with genuine concern and no judgment in her tone. “No matter how trusted he is.” 

“Cassandra, I have never been anything, but unseemly,” Echo said, with a good-natured grin. “If the masses can’t understand that beneath the pearly and shiny title that I am a normal hot-blooded elf, then that’s problem not mine. Besides, I am sure I can manage to contain myself from jumping Solas’s bones.” 

“I say none of this with the intent of offense,” Cassandra told her, her dark eyes stared steadily forward. The Seeker took stock of everything and everyone nearby in a split second, before she dared to continue. “It is…the way of things, I suppose. You in the eyes of the faithful are a higher standard that the rest of the world fails to achieve, and thus have been gifted the mark. A hero unsullied by earthly desires and temptations, a perfect paragon that others must strive to become. It is unfair, to expect you to alert your life and your ways to conform to such ideals, especially when you did not ask for any of this.” 

“I agreed to join the Inquisition. I knew that when I did that I would be marked with that title like I had been marked with this mark,” she said, glancing down at the green glow that flickered and crackled against her palm. “I just don’t understand what people find so miraculous about it, I guess. Maybe I’m just too close to it all to see from their perspective.” 

“Can you not?” Cassandra’s brows rose. “In times of war and strife, many prayers go unanswered. Even in times of peace, there are moments when it feels the Maker does not hear us. So many hopes and prayers lost into the Void, it is disheartening. Yet in one moment, when prayers couldn’t have mattered more, when many thought the end was upon us after Edric’s death, our prayers were answered through you. You a person that is someone we can, someone we can touch, that walks on this earth beside us and helped kept the sky from swallowing the world. How is that not miraculous?” 

Echo stared at the Seeker. “You believe that Andraste sent me?” 

“I believe you were what we needed when we needed it most,” Cassandra replied, with a small smile. “And yes, I would like believe that the Maker or Andraste must have guided you to us. Whether that is the truth of the matter, I’m sure many will come to debate over time.” 

Echo resisted the urge to sigh. She had a feeling the Seeker was still caught between seeing her as a savior come to save them, and the woman that she actually was. But it seemed that slowly, the Seeker was opening her eyes and Echo was grateful for that. “You know one thing I still don’t understand. Why people think that any who is in a holy position, or perceived as holy can’t a love life. What is that about?” She asked, her nose wrinkled. “I just don’t understand that.” 

“Virginity is symbolic of purity,” Cassandra replied. 

Echo gave a strangled laugh. “And makes me all that more of a forbidden fruit, huh? I wonder how many stories will crop up of the innocent Herald of Andraste being seduced and ravaged,” she said, her eyes glittered with amusement. She bet Varric could write a bunch, and they would sell like nobody’s business. “Too bad for those fantasy lover, I’m not that innocent.” 

Cassandra snorted, lightly. “I’m sure your would be seducer will be terribly disappointed.” 

“I’m going to go wake up, Solas,” Echo grinned wickedly. “You can be my chaperon to preserve my honor, if you feel the need.” 

“With a grin like that, I’m beginning to question whether it is your honor or Solas’s that needs protecting,” the Seeker retorted, dryly. 

“Those who say you don’t have a sense of humor, Cassandra, sorely underestimate you,” the female elf said, with a laugh. She made her way over to the tent, and noted that Cassandra did not feel to chaperon. Thank goodness, she was afraid that was going to become an issue later on down the line. While she didn’t have sex indiscriminately, she did on occasion like to have it. Plucking the idea that she was some naïve soul that needed her virtue to be protected out of the Seeker’s head right away, she hoped spared her trouble later on down the line. The last thing she needed was the Inquisition to get involved with her sex life on any level. That was just not happening. 

“Solas?” She called out, and when no reply came, she ducked inside the tent. For a moment, Echo was struck dumb at the sight of Solas laying there on his stomach. His tunic was discarded on the ground, leaving the chiseled planes of his back and shoulders bare for her view. The slope of his spine was not prominent, but the way it accentuated his backside was like a work of art. Her pulse hammered in her temples, and she could feel the blush climb up her throat then finally settle into the tips of her ears. Embarrassment fluttered in her stomach like a bunch of busy bees, and she knew she shouldn’t be blatantly ogling a sleeping man like this. No matter how enticing the view, and she cleared her throat lightly. “Solas,” she said, carefully reaching out to touch his shoulder. Just to wake him up, there was absolutely no ulterior motive like to subtly feel him up whatsoever. “Solas, we are about to leave—” 

The second her fingers brushed his warm skin, he startled. His hand as quick as lightning, imprisoned her wrist in a tight and uncompromising grip. He lifted himself off of the bedroll, his bleary eyes narrowed in confusion and after a few blinks when the sleepiness faded away, his grip slackened ever so slightly. “Herald?” He asked, his voice rough with lethargy. 

“I am an Echo, not a Harold,” she joked, her laugh a tad nervous. The long fingers had yet to fully release her wrist, and she thought to herself that if the violin had existed in this world, he would have been an excellent violinist with such hands. She shoved away the thought as quickly as it came because all it did was make the blush in her face grow all that more hotter. She didn’t want to look at Solas, and notice her attraction to him. He was someone difficult to square away into one place inside her mind, and to add any warm and fuzzy feelings to the mix just increased those troubles. “We are getting ready to leave to head for the Templar encampment. Cassandra said you were still sleeping, so I came to walk you. I hope that I did not tear you from too pleasant of dreams.” 

“Not so pleasant as they were troubling,” Solas said, freeing her wrist from his fingers. 

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and grabbed his tunic. He pulled it on over his head, and part of Echo mourned the loss of the nice view. And then in the next moment she felt shame for eyeing Solas like a piece of meat. “Troubling how? I mean, you don’t have to tell me obviously if you don’t want to. Your dreams, your business,” she added, with a fleeting smile. 

“I was…” He paused for a moment, as if he were searching for the best words. His blue eyes flickered up to her, and he turned to face her squarely. “I was investigating the Fade, trying to learn about your friend’s predicament with little success.” 

Echo wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She also knew that Ashlinn, if she didn’t want to be found, could be exceedingly difficult to locate, even before this whole mess with the Fade. And she wouldn’t welcome a stranger, especially one that Echo had been wary of the last time they had spoken in her dreams. “Oh? How so?” She inquired. 

“It seems your friend has garnered the loyalty of many spirits. A smart and wise decision given her circumstances, though I wonder to what end that she would befriend them,” Solas informed her, with a pinched frown on his lips. 

Echo guessed, “Loneliness.” 

Solas quirked up a brow. 

“Ashlinn doesn’t thrive well when alone. Not to say she doesn’t have her moments where she needs a bit of solitude, but she thrives on being around people, on chaos and noise. To her the silence is stifling,” Echo explained, with a wry grin. “My bet is that she got tired of being alone, and wanted someone to talk to. Not a lot of socializing can be found in the Fade, beyond the spirits and demons. And Ashlinn doesn’t strike me as someone who would give a demon the time of day unless it was to stab them with the point end of a sword.” 

Solas smiled, faintly. “I can see why you and this Ashlinn get along them. You both thrive on the chaos and whirlwind around you. Most people would falter and be crushed underneath its foot,” the apostate commented, lifting his necklace off the ground. He tied the wolf jaw bone around his neck, and it settled to its place just below his collarbone. 

“Herald, the garrison is ready to leave,” the Seeker’s voice came from beyond the tent flap and startled both the elves. 

Echo looked sheepish for all of a moment before a mischievous gleam entered her dual colored eyes. “I guess Cassandra got worried, and thought your virtue really did need protecting,” she quipped, with a big smirk on her lips. 

“Pardon?” Solas blinked. 

Echo’s only reply was a laugh as she ducked out of his tent, and allowed him to finish getting ready without an audience present. 

* * *

After wrapping up the conversation of worst case scenario and what should follow with Cassandra and Corporal Vale, Echo finished putting on her armor. She secured her quiver properly, and slung her bow over herself shoulder. She walked through the Crossroads, and felt so strangely like an outcast in a familiar land. The same buildings, the same road, but so many faces that she once knew were gone—either dead, or had fled from the chaos. Her ached for them, and she hoped that they had all made it safely, even knowing the odds weren’t in their favor. She passed by a group of soldiers when one of them whistled to get her attention, and she bristled instantly. 

“You there, knife-ear,” a soldier pointed at her, a big smirk on his face while the other two laughed quietly. “Come here. We want to talk to you.” 

“I’ll talk to you as soon as jackasses sprout wings and learn to fly,” Echo said, with a perfectly pleasant demeanor that didn’t match the harsh look that flashed through her eyes. She passed by them without so much as a second glance, intending to meet with Varric and Solas who waited the underground passage that led to the King’s Road. 

That was until one of the soldiers reached out and grabbed her arm. The effect was instantaneous. Whereas she had been annoyed was now filled with a piping hot rage, and she could feel her magic hum underneath her fingertips ready to lash out. The man jerked her back towards him, and his buddies. “Now don’t be like that, luv,” the soldier cooed, with a broad smirk on his lips, “we just want to get to know you better.” 

“I’m sure that you think that’s a privilege, but I’m not interested,” Echo sneered, shooting a bolt of electric up her arm and straight into him. His face twitched comically, and he released a cry of pain, releasing her arm from his grasp. 

“Mage!” One of his pals growled. 

“I dare you,” Echo narrowed her eyes on him when his hand dropped to his weapon. 

“What is going on here?” Corporal Vale’s sharp voice cracked in the clearing while onlookers watched the scene unfold, and he marched towards them with Cassandra on his heels. 

“Nothing, Corporal,” the grabby soldier said, immediately. “We just wanted a word with this mage, and she lashed out for no good reason.” 

Echo had seen and heard it before. He was so smug and confident that his narrative would be seen as truth over a filthy knife ear, and if things had been different, it probably would have. It made her stomach twist to think that if it had been some other elven girl, then this situation could have turned out worse in many different ways. 

“Is that true?” Cassandra asked. The Seeker looked skeptical, not believing a word of it which was comforting. 

“No, it’s not. I was minding my own business when these idiots whistled at me, expecting me to trot over happily like a dog. I declined to listen when he put his hand on,” Echo accused, viciously. “I had no desire to get to “know them better”, as the soldier put it so I used a little magic to make him let go of my arm. I hope, Corporal Vale, that this is not a common occurrence. Other elves are not in a position to protect themselves as I.” 

“How dare you speak so to the Corporal like you have a right to criticize his command, knife ear?” One soldier snapped. “Know your place.” 

“My place, huh?” Echo’s eyes grew cold. It wasn’t the first time that she encountered men like this before. Thedas had a great wealth of flaws, and one big glaring one was its outdated sense of patriarchy. There was still an imbalance between the genders, despite women warriors and the like. And even more staggering was the inequality between races, and no race suffered more than elves. An elven woman was easy prey to a man raised to believe that woman were nothing more than a vehicle for their pleasure, and that elves weren’t really people at all. “The only one who doesn’t seem to grasp just where their place is on the totem pole here is you.” 

“That is enough, Jean-Luc,” Corporal Vale bit out before the soldier could make more of an ass out of himself. The corporal looked livid and half tempted to beat some sense into these soldiers. “You know that such acts go against the code of conduct the Inquisition is trying to uphold. You’re a soldier, not a mercenary. You don’t treat people as commodities for the taking. You will three with be helping, Master Chandler, with cleaning up after the livestock and packing inventory.” 

“You can’t be serious!” Jean-Luc said, incredulously. 

“I am serious,” Corporal Vale bit out, darkly. “But before you get on to doing your chores, you will apologize to the Herald of Andraste for accosting her in such a manner, and pray that she has mercy enough not to make things worse for you.” 

“Herald of…” Jean-Luc’s eyes dipped down to her palm which crackled with the mark. His face paled, and his two buddies looked ready to keel over. “I didn’t know…I swear, I didn’t know!” 

“That is hardly an excuse,” Cassandra snapped. 

“I’m sorry! Maker forgive me,” Jean-Luc begged. 

Echo had a blank expression on her face, a blaze sparking in the base of her skull and she just nodded her head sharply. “I trust you will take care to make sure that they cause no further trouble for elves or anyone, Corporal?” She asked, looking at the man. 

“I will,” Corporal Vale promised. 

Echo accepted that. He seemed the sincere sort, but there was still an anger festering hot in her belly. “Come, Cassandra. The Templars won’t wait forever,” she stated, her tone stilted. She turned on heel without looking to see if the Seeker was following, and wished she had some way of ripping out the bitter emotions that twisted through her like a snake waiting to strike. 

* * *

Echo stepped through the dense forest with a hard expression on her face. They hoped to use the woods to cover them until the very last possible moment. Solas, Cassandra, and Varric were a few steps behind and the garrison just on their heels. The presence of more Inquisition soldiers should be comforting, but after the events of this morning, it just raised her hackles. How many were just like those three? It was an unfair thought to judge the whole, by the actions of the few yet she couldn’t help, but to think that way right now when the anger was still so fresh. 

“You alright there, Mockingbird?” 

“I’ll be fine, Varric,” she replied, looking over her shoulder at him. “I’ve dealt with people like that before and it won’t be the last time it happens.” 

“No, it won’t,” Varric said, with a sigh. “I’m just concerned. You are too…quiet.” 

“I’m angry,” Echo replied. “And I don’t want that anger to coat any words I speak to you all. You don’t deserve to be the target for my feelings.” 

“I’d rather you have some reaction than no reaction, Mockingbird,” Varric told her, honestly. “I’d rather you raged and scream, then shut down.” 

“I’m not…I’m not shutting down,” Echo said, coming to a halt. She turned to look at her three closest companions. “I just feel that it just wasn’t enough. That they got a slap on the wrist, and once they lick their wounded pride, they’ll got back to doing what they tried to do to me, but to someone else.” 

“Corporal Vale gave you his word that would not be the way of it,” Cassandra said, with a shake of her head. 

“Corporal Vale runs a tight ship, but he can’t be everywhere, now can he?” Echo pointed out, a frown upon her brow. “You do realize if it hadn’t been me, that if it had been another elven girl in my place then they likely wouldn’t have been punished? That the elven girl would have been treated as a liar or beaten if she stood up for herself? Or worse would feel she had no choice, but to do as the soldiers said? No person, no matter their race of gender should be put in such a position like that.” The woman closed her mismatched eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I feel that there is nothing I can do about it.” 

“You underestimate yourself,” Solas interjected, his face solemn. His blue eyes riveted on her face; even with her eyes closed she could feel his gaze like it was touch. “People look up to you. You could challenge men such as these soldiers, and set an example for others to follow. An example that they might not have otherwise.” 

“I shouldn’t have to tell grown people how to act,” Echo huffed, with a deep frown on her face. Her eyes peeled open, and she ran a hand along her jaw. “It should be common sense to respect and treat others fairly regardless of their origin. Why is that such a hard thing for people to understand?” 

“People fear things they do not understand, or perceive too different from themselves. They label anyone strange or not like them as an “other”,” Varric commented, with a snort. “It takes away that person identity, making them a thing and less of a person. I’m sure there is a boatload of other reasons, but in my experience that seemed to be the most common one.” 

“What an astute observation,” Solas blinked at him. 

“You don’t have to look so surprised, Chuckles,” Varric laughed. “I do have the occasional deep thought, or two.” 

“Let’s press on, shall we?” Echo said, putting an end to the conversation. She didn’t like the swarm of emotions and thoughts it kicked up inside of her. Could she use her voice to better the lives of the abused and oppressed? It seemed like a pipe dream. The Inquisition certainly wanted to make things better, but would they be the first stepping stone to change? Leliana certainly wanted it to be, but it wasn’t that simply. If they were too hasty in the early stages of the Inquisition, their attempt at change would be met with ire, and great backlash. But to do nothing would surely be worse, wouldn’t it? 

Echo wished the incident hadn’t happened so she didn’t have to bear these thoughts, and knew it was such a selfish thought. She hated it the moment it crossed through her mind. The leaves crunched beneath her feet, and there was something about the smell of the forest still wet with the early morning dew. It was familiar to her as the closest of friends, and brought a much needed sense of calm to her inner self. There would be time for thinking about changing the world, but right now, she needed to be focused on the battle ahead of them. 

The roar of the waterfall in the distance could be heard, so Echo knew that they were close to the encampment from what she recalled of Corporal Vale’s map. She took a cautious step forward, her hand slipping to the dagger on her belt. The hilt was solid and comforting in the palm of her hand, and the sound of her steady heartbeat filled her own ears. She could make out voices just beneath it, and glanced over the Seeker. Cassandra caught her eye and nodded, gesturing for the garrison to fan out. Just through the thicket, down a sudden incline to where the encampment was sheltered between the rocky cliff and the river way down below. 

It was an ingenious spot to camp that would prevent a head on assault, but Echo had no plans to attack their “front gates” so to speak. A bit of guerilla warfare would serve best here, and that was why they were creeping through the woods, all cloak and dagger. She couldn’t remember just how the battle started, only they broke through the tree line and dropped in on the unsuspecting Templars who eating breakfast. Some weren’t even dressed in their armor, which word make taking them out much more easier. There was a mass of shouts, arrows slung to and fro from, either side though the Inquisition got in the first shots that truly counted. A wintery wind tore through the camp, a snow storm that chilled Templars to the bone and made their visibility poor. A magic spell perfected by Solas, and Varric shot bolts that slid through the frosty gale, slicing down a row of enemies. 

Echo sent out a bolt of electricity, shocking nearby Templars. One of the Templar turned towards her, and smited her. It tore through her body from head to toe like jagged fingernails claws across her soul and mind. A vicious snarl twisted her face, and the smite had left her weakened and dizzy, but her magic was not her only weapon. She slashed upward, the tip of her dagger caught the man’s chin and dragged upward. He let out a cry of pain, shocked by the attack. It gave Cassandra the opening she needed to rush forward, and buried her blade into the Templar’s gut. 

The Seeker bashed an oncoming Templar with her shield, and Echo buried her blade through his neck before he had a chance to get upward. It was a ripe, bloody morning with death on the breeze and by the time the last Templar fell, the sun was already beyond its highest point in the sky. Echo touched her split lips, and winced as she blinked, certain that her eye would be bruised black by nightfall if not sooner. She gave a small gasp when Solas appeared at her side, without a sound. “Am I going to have line your neck with a necklace made of bells just so you can’t sneak up on me?” She asked, with an eyebrow arched. 

Solas looked faintly amused, but his blue eyes flickered to her busted lip and eye. He lifted his hand towards her face, and she could feel the cool, minty sensation of his healing magic in the air. She caught his hand gently, and stopped him from completely his action. “It’s fine,” she reassured him, with a small shake of her head. He couldn’t know the affect his magic on her, and she was trying to spare herself the addiction. “It’s just a cut and bruise. You don’t have to waste your mana by healing it.” 

“I would not call such a waste,” Solas said, with a frown. His blue eyes pierced hers, and there was a mute frustration held deep within the shadows of his gaze. Perhaps, he saw her refusal as mistrust, but that wasn’t what it was. 

Varric walked up to them. “Talk about snatching victory from the arms of defeat,” the dwarf whistled, stroking Bianca folding. “For a second, when that Templar built like a tower came out of his tent, I thought we were done for. Good thing, you’re on our side, Seeker.” 

Cassandra huffed, lightly. She had taken the brute down with no small amount of effort, and wiped the blood away from her nose. She looked down at her hand distastefully. “I’ve ordered the garrison to search the Templars camp for any useful supplies before following us,” the Seeker said, with a weary expression. “As for ourselves, I suggest we continue onward to Master Dennet’s farms without delay.” 

“I think that would be wise,” Solas interjected. 

Echo nodded. “Agreed. Now, let’s hurry. I’d rather not stick around when the scent of death and blood attracts any dangerous wildlife. I’m not sure I have another fight in me right now.” 

* * *

The bright sky just started to take on hues of orange and deep purples just along the horizon when they reached the Inquisition camp. “Maker’s Breath!” One Inquisition soldier cried, in surprise when they trotted through the stream. “It’s the Herald! What a joyous sight you make for these poor eyes! How did you get past the Templars, your grace?” 

Echo hesitated, taken aback by the titles. “We, uh, handled them. They shall not trouble you or anyone else further,” she replied, taking a half a step back from the overly energetic girl. “There is a garrison that should be arriving on our heels. They will have supplies for you all.” 

“Thank goodness,” another soldier sighed, heavily. “I have to eat nug stew again, I might turn into one. I swear, I’ll not complain if we can have anything, but that.” 

“Anything to report, lieutenant?” The Seeker questioned. 

The lieutenant snapped to attention. “Yes. There a few things, Lady Seeker, that are quite concerning. The Templars might not have caused us much trouble beyond blocking our supplies, but the bandits to the south of here have attempted a couple of attacks on us.” 

“Bandits?” Echo asked. 

“Whenever there is chaos, there are opportunists trying to take advantage of people,” Varric shook his head. 

“They were well trained and well equipped,” the soldier added, after a beat. “Especially for bandits.” 

“Even worse, bandits with influence behind them,” the dwarf sighed, wearily. “That means someone is trying to play hard ball, and my guess with the Inquisition.” 

“Lady Nightingale should be informed of such matters,” Cassandra ordered. “I expect you to write a full report on these bandits and send it back to Haven immediately.” 

“Yes, Lady Seeker,” the soldier bowed her head. “But that is not all the troubles we faced, ma’am. In the last week, we’ve also been plagued by some rather peculiar wolves.” 

“Define peculiar?” Solas asked, with a brow arched. 

“Wolves are fierce creatures to be sure, but they usually don’t come into villages unless their need is dire. These wolves aren’t cautious or wary of humans. They are brazen and organized,” the soldier said, with a shudder. “And their eyes glow, serah. It’s not natural.” 

“That doesn’t sound good,” the dwarf commented. 

“No, it does not,” Solas said, frowning fiercely. “Animals are more in tune with nature, and the Breach has caused a great imbalance. Anyone with malice intent and magic could easily control the wolves in their vulnerable state.” 

Echo glanced over at him, wondering what he was feeling right in this moment. The animal had once been attributed to him many, many years ago so she figured he must feel some sort of kinship to them. 

“Whatever the cause, we will need to deal with it,” the Seeker stated, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What of Master Dennet? Does he and his family still live?” 

“Yes,” the soldier replied. “He has been waiting for someone official to arrive from the Inquisition to speak with. He’ll be happy that you are here. Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” Echo asked. 

“He’s a tough nut to crack that one. A bit surly,” the soldier warned, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Take that as you will.” 

“What do you want to do, Herald?” Cassandra looked at Echo. “Do you wish to greet the Horse Master this evening, or wait in the morning?” 

It was probably be better to meet with Master Dennet as soon as possible, but part of her craved being able to rest for a few hours. “In the morning,” she decided, before she could second guess herself. The Seeker gave no argument, and while Cassandra spoke to the guards further, the Herald of Andraste walked over to the stream. Kneeling down, she cupped water in her hands and splashed it across her face. The shockingly cold water drew a gasp from her, and the sensation jolted her nerves back away from exhaustion’s grasp. 

Why did today seem harder than the previous? She wasn’t sure that it was that it had been harder, but more that her perception was growing. She had always known that the weight on her shoulders would be enormous. Closing rifts, fighting demons, and eventually close the Breach all while trying to find a way to end a nasty war or two. But it was much more than that. She had a responsibility, didn’t she? To not only to the Inquisition, but to the people of Thedas in ways that she was just beginning to fully realize. 

Brushing her hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ears, Echo closed her eyes gently and drew in a deep breath. A tingle of magic—a burst of mint on her tongue, and the softest, brief touch on her cheek brought her out of her trance. Her eyes peeled up slowly, and she looked up at Solas who stood innocently beside her with arms clasped behind his back. “I thought I told you not to waste you magic,” she said, though there was no real heat behind her words. His magic left a tinge, a trace on her skin that would linger for hours on end. She didn't know why he had such an effect on her, and it was just something purely Solas. No other mage's magic touched her like this. 

“And I told you it would not be a waste,” Solas countered, smoothly. His eyes flickered down towards her, and the left corner of his mouth lifted. “The day has been trying on you, in more ways than one. You have been…more withdrawn than normal.” 

Echo wiped away the rivulets of water that streamed down her face, and she brushed her hair out of her face with a heavy sigh. “I just have been lost in my thoughts,” she replied, sorrow in her mismatched gaze. “I used to haul trading goods to various suppliers through the Hinterlands, and every time we are at the Crossroads, I expect to see familiar faces yet I see none. I am afraid that Seanna will tell me what happened to them.” 

“Seanna?” Solas asked, cocking his head to the side inquisitively. 

“She is Master Dennet’s daughter. While I only know Master Dennet through reputation, I have met Seanna personally, and have brought trading goods to these farms. She probably knows what happened, or at least, heard rumors of what happened to everyone,” Echo answered, rising to her feet. “What happened to Gilda, the only lady who lived alone with her cat and used to bake bread, passing it out to those who were needy. What happened to Mathias and his family, who housed and helped heal me after a particularly nasty run in with a bear. I fear knowing their fates, and learning that they are not pleasant ones.” 

“They were not among the refugees?” 

“No.” 

Solas’s face softened with sympathy. “That is why you did not wish to go to speak to the Horse Master. You were afraid of the answers that you would find.” 

Echo looked away, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “That definitely played a part, yes,” she admitted, reluctantly. “I know that putting it off isn’t going to change the answer, and that I should confront it instead of hiding. It’s just the longer I wait, the longer I can pretend they are alright or made it out of the Hinterlands fine even if the realist in me knows the chances of that are…” She shook her hand, and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I just want to live in denial, a little bit longer.” 

Solas smiled, faintly. “I understand your hesitations. No one wishes to hear ill news such as the death of a friend,” the apostate commented, hands clasped behind his back. “The war has taken a toll on the lands, and few—if any—were spared.” 

“It’s madness,” she breathed out. “The Mage and Templar war was years in the making, but there had been an attempt at peace. And then someone sabotages the Conclave, and not only destroys the only hopes for peace, but unleashes the Breach. What monster benefits from such chaos? I can’t wrap my mind around it.” 

Solas was quiet for a long moment. “Yes, it is madness. A desperate sort of madness, and only few could understand the motivations that drive monsters to do such things.” He shifted on his feet, to turn towards her and raised a brow. “Do you still wish to meet in the Fade, and aid your friend?” 

“Yes. Of course,” Echo nodded. “I can hide or put off a lot of things, but Ashlinn being stuck in the Fade is not one of them. If there is anything that can be done, we have to figure it out and fast.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love and hate this chapter in equal measure. I am happy with the way it turned out and glad to have an update finally. My only issue is that I wish I had been able to progress the story into Ashlinn's part, where we finally get the ball rolling on that. Still, I hope that you all enjoy regardless. 
> 
> Thank you all!


	10. These Solemn Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Djinni_Wren, Twinbuster2, tally_dear, Ivalane, kevinfreakingsolo, Watchtower2806, AxZi, LethargicDynamo, Gygapudding, SaltyStalker, Arradess, Eirdaru, misha_stardream, Matsurikoi, ToasterMuffan, Ageemarie, redcoconutcurry, Garbagio, Chitsukii, Valsheress, April_Marciano, AliFenZevSolAlways, Anna_Donovan, silverfox2011, drdada, SeekerofAstridFae, Chansisen, Icefrog, Fenesvir, Viji, Misokitty, Polli, Jade_Blanc, mid_2_Knight, DragonBaby2559, Brie88, AEMoore, figmentz, Saquira, Wobulator, TelegenicLotus, Wellmadedust, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, auntjilly89, 13_Ravens, Ardis, cheshiire, Darling_Angel, Hexpixie, chain0425, KittyDragoness, WickedWitchoftheWilds, Elina, Hotpotato, UsakoAuditore, seraphem31, iner, maireh, Silenceatemycat and 43 guests who left kudos!  
> I want to thank Lily, Brie88, namami34, Rebecca for the comments!  
> I want to thank Love_uh_lee, Jazz_Roseo523, misha_stardream, ToasterMuffan, Ageemarie, ellanarei, April_Marciano, drdada, SeekerofAstridFae, AEMoore, figmentz, Wobulator, AlwaysQuesting, dingo_dog, chaino425, millie435, for all the bookmarks!  
> Chapter Inspired by:  
> “State of the Art” by Jim James

Chapter Ten 

“These Solemn Hours”

* * *

_The rest velvet seats were filled to the brim with people, all fixated on the players the grand stage. Poor Esmeralda had just sought sanctuary in the church, never knowing a great threat laid with in the stone walls in the form of Claude Frollo. Echo felt her teeth sink into her lower lip as she watched the scene unfold where Frollo confronted Esmeralda right before she sings the song, “God Help the Outcast.” The despair and uncertainty etched into the young gypsy woman’s face when she looked up into the statue of Mary, and she felt goose bumps run along her arms when the woman belting her heart in those lyrics. She remembered coming here when she was young with her parents, but this was the Fade replaying that memory for her as soon as she drew deep enough for the Fade to draw inspiration from her soul. She wondered where Solas was. He had fallen asleep far swifter than she had, so he should have been here already. It was a brief tingle along her senses, like a gentle caress and she shifted in her chair uneasily._

_Suddenly, the person in the seat beside her evaporated into smoke and she let out a startled gasp when Solas slid into the person’s place. “Solas, there you are,” Echo commented, her voice barely more than whisper. Her heart thumped in her chest because she could see the curious way the elvhen man looked at the surroundings. The lights, the clothing, and other things that would be alien to anyone from Thedas, and she could see the questions form in his eyes, and she didn’t know how to answer. Or perhaps, she didn’t know if she should._

_She was saved from his inquiries when the song started. Her gaze jerked back towards the stage, as Esmeralda sang so softly, “I don’t know if you can hear me or if you are even there. I don’t know if you would listen to my people’s prayer. I know that I’m just an outcast, I shouldn’t speak to you. Still I see your face and wonder, were you once an outcast, too?”_

_The song always struck a chord for her. Something inside her heart trembled and ached, as if she was all too familiar with Esmeralda’s plight even though she could not recall going through something similar in her life. The actress—or spirit that was embodying Echo’s memory of the Broadway play—sung beautifully, her voice reaching out and touching the audience. Echo glanced at Solas, who was quiet._

_Solas watched the performance, riveted to the scene with his lips parted ever so lightly. Emotions made his eyes glassy, and Echo could see the impact they lyrics were having on him. There was a strange tug her heartstrings gave watching him, and she averted her gaze back to the stage with her heart beating a little faster than was normal. Her breath caught in her throat when Esmeralda begged God to help the outcasts of France, and then watched the people walk through church all asking for something—love, wealth, and a whole manner of materialistic items whereas Esmeralda asked for nothing, but for God to help her people. Esmeralda finished the song, bathed in the light of the sun shining through the stained glass window. She sank to her knees, drawing Pjali into a hug burying her face into the goat’s neck. Quasimodo watched from the shadows, with awe and reverence in his gaze when he looked upon the woman who was practically an angel in his eyes._

_Esmeralda was inherently selless, kind hearted and compassionate even when she was treated like she was evil by the people of France, just because she was different. That was something she could relate to all too well. How many people couldn’t see past her pointed ears to the person she was? Echo swallowed down the emotions bubbling up her throat like a boiling pot about to overflow._

_Solas expelled a breath, his chest sank inward and he had a knuckle white grip on the armrests._

_“Solas?” She inquired, touching his arm lightly._

_His eyes turned towards her, and for a split second, his expression was raw, unfiltered with more than a lifetime of pain shining in those bright stormy blue depths. It was an look that struck her heart like a knife, and in the next moment, a veil fell over his face—stoic and empty, hiding his every emotion and thought. “My apologies, I was—” he halted for a moment, perhaps to find the proper words or a way to dismiss the way his feelings had overcame him._

_Echo saved him from having to explain, changing the subject. “Shall we go find Ashlinn?” She inquired her tone very soft. The people and the stage melted out of existence, leaving them sitting upon a rocky outcropping in the Fade._

_“Yes,” Solas agreed, readily. “Where do you propose we begin our search? She is, after all, your friend and you would know her best.”_

_Echo frowned, thinking very hard. She knew Ashlinn would have found somewhere safe, and if not, kept moving from place to place. “I think our best bet is to go back to those elven ruins, where you met her briefly, if that is possible?” Her mismatched gaze glanced up at him, questioningly._

_Solas inclined his head. “I believe I can lead us there.”_

_He led her through the Fade, and she couldn’t help but notice how the spirits reacted to him. Demons scurried away out of sight in the blink of an eye, while the spirits peeked and spied on them from a distance. Neither dared approach, and her gaze turned to the Dread Wolf. The brilliance of colors and power that he kept leashed up under his well composed and unfaltering self-control were so bright that it made her eyes burn. She could a faint lullaby like a whisper in the air, and her hands ached to reach out, and touch him, to touch the colors he so naturally spun. She bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing what to make of the impulse. (Or maybe she did know what to make of the impulse, and she just didn’t want to admit it.)_

_Her hands curled into loose fists at her sides, and she released a sigh of relief when they came upon the elven ruins where she had been overwhelmed by the memories embedded into the Fade here, but she frowned when she saw no clear sign of Ashlinn. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Just a clue or a hint that her friend had been here that would lead them to her. Could she perhaps try using her magic to call out to Ashlinn? Like a beacon? She turned to Solas with that question on her lips when the elvhen man pointed up to the turret above. “I believe that is your friend, no?” Solas asked, and Echo followed his line of sight to see a silhouette of a person standing watch of the silent ruins._

_Even from this far away, Echo could recognize Ashlinn instantly. “Yes, that’s her.”_

_Echo made her way to the looming silvery gates that opened on their own at her and Solas’s approach and they entered a grand courtyard that made her breath catch in her throat from the sheer beauty that surrounded her. A fountain made from marble and lyrium crystal was the centerpiece of the courtyard, with silvery clear water spraying upward. Trees with bark a beautiful blue and silver colored leaves and balls of light spun around them. Flowers with the color and vibrancy that she had never seen surrounded the base of the trees. Her feet echoed across the smooth and polished stone, and clear across to the other side she saw Ashlinn making her way down the stairs. She briskly rushed across the courtyard towards them._

_“Echo,” Ashlinn spoke once she was within hearing range, with a visibly relieved tone in her voice. She made her way across the stone floor, with a worried expression etched onto her features. “You are alright. After our last meeting in the Fade, I had thought—” She cut off when she saw Solas standing there, and the emotions on her face became hidden behind an inscrutable mask. She halted in step, and her blue eyes flickered to Echo for a moment with a clear question there._

_“Ashlinn, this is Solas,” Echo introduced, carefully._

_“I remember,” Ashlinn nodded, slightly. “It was not so long ago that we met briefly in the Fade.”_

_“We did not have a chance to speak then,” Solas commented, with carefully polite._

_Ashlinn regarded him. “Something to be remedy, I suppose,” she replied, with a cordial tone. “If you all want to, we can move inside. The spirits around here are normally benign, but I have a room inside where we can be afforded a bit of privacy.”_

_“That would probably be best,” Echo agreed._

_Ashlinn led them into the grand fortress, with an architecture that was unlike any that Echo could recall seeing in her travels though she supposed a lot of what the elvhen people had built had been destroyed over the years. It sent a pang through her chest, and she wondered stories were imprinted on these walls. Was there a time that she was surrounded by walls like these? Echo chewed the inside of her cheek, her eyes flickered from Solas to Ashlinn nervously._

_She tried to imagine what words to say in this situation, but she couldn’t figure out which was the best thing to say. Her brain was drawing a completely blank, and after descending several levels of stairs into the depths of the fortress, Ashlinn pushed open a door leading them into a room that was wholly out of place in an ancient building._

_Instead of shaped like the rest of the ruins, it was identical to the interior of Ashlinn’s home on Earth. It was mildly ingenious when she thought about it though. Ashlinn used the memories of this place to keep up a façade, while building a sanctuary of her own in its depths. “Maker, I miss this place,” Echo whispered, drawing in the scent of cinnamon and hot cocoa and pine. “It smells like Christmas.”_

_“It’s my safe place,” Ashlinn smiled, her blue eyes flickered to the brightly lit Christmas tree. “It is a place of rest where I don’t have to worry about the darker aspects of the Fade breathing down my neck, and murdering me or worse.”_

_“This place…” Solas glanced around, a frown settled along his brow. His grayish blue traced the Christmas lights, decorations, and then across the pictures that sat along the fireplace mantle. “It is…strangely designed. These fixtures and style are unlike anything I have ever seen, even here in the Fade. There is also a touch of a spirit here in the construction, as if you had aid in creating this place.”_

_“A spirit of Wisdom aided me, yes,” Ashlinn easily answered._

_Solas turned towards her, his hands clasped behind his back. “I have to confess…you are not what I expected,” said the elvhen man, with a touch of surprise in his voice. “When the Herald first told me about visions of a friend appearing to her in the Fade, I expected a demon despite her reassurance that you were not. If not, a demon than a spirit trying to help her through turmoil, but you are neither. You are…are normal human, with not a trace of magic. I knew of few magics that could force a person into the Fade, but I feel no such traces in the air surrounding you.”_

_Ashlinn looked vaguely surprised by his observations, but took them in stride nonetheless. “Nope, I am not a demon or spirit. But it is no spell that brought me to the Fade, but…a series of unfortunate circumstances,” she said, with a light sigh. She peeked at Echo, and folding her arms over her chest. “Can I speak to you for a moment, Echo? There is something personal I need to discussion with, and that’ll give Solas time to explore to his curiosity’s content.”_

_“Sure,” Echo replied, looking at Solas out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t mind, do you, Solas?”_

_“Not at all,” Solas dipped his head in acknowledgment. He walked over to the bookshelf, and studied the books there while Echo followed Ashlinn into the kitchen._

_“I was worried about you,” Ashlinn said, when they were out of earshot._

_“Ash, I—” Echo sighed._

_“Echo, don’t do this to yourself,” her friend interrupted her tone soft and sad. Her blue eyes stared beseechingly, silently pleading for Echo to release the guilt she held tight in her soul. “You always have this way of blaming yourself and shouldering responsibility for someone else’s actions, and you really shouldn’t. I made the choice to go after you. You were in an accident. Sometimes bad things happen, and the truth is there isn’t anyone to blame.”_

_Echo felt her jaw go painfully tight, the corners of her eyes tightened._

_Ashlinn shook her head slightly, her mouth opened and then shut. She took a step closer to Echo, and ran her fingers through her hair. “It isn’t your fault. You know that, right? Please tell me that you know that?”_

_“Do I?” Echo said, her face contorted with agony. “You wouldn’t have been out there if it weren’t for me.”_

_“ You were out on the road because you were upset because something happened with your parents, are they to blame for the accident that happened to you? Of course they aren’t,” Ashlinn asserted with a firm tone of voice. “We can talk until we are blue in the face, trying to assign blame or take on some gratuitous guilt to make ourselves feel worse or better, but it won’t change anything.”_

_“That’s true, I guess,” Echo acknowledged, tiredly._

_Ashlinn grew solemn, her posture drooping as she leaned against the counter. “That’s why you brought your friend, isn’t it? You think you can find a way to fix me,” she said, a hint of vulnerability trembled in her voice. Her fingers toyed with the edge of a dish rag, and her eyes fixated on the streaks of blue and silver that streaked through the marble countertop._

_“We will fix it,” Echo emphasized, with a confidence that she wasn’t sure she entirely felt._

_“And you think Solas will really help? I just know you were wary of him before, and maybe it’s hypocritical of me to caution you know when only a little while ago I was asking you to give him a chance, but this is a big secret that we would be letting him in on if you hadn’t realized,” Ashlinn replied, honestly. A line appeared between her brows, “I’m just trying to make sure you are absolutely sure you want to do that because if we are going to figure out how to save me—not that I believe there is a way—we will have to tell him the full truth meaning things about Earth. That kind of knowledge in the wrong hands, I don’t want to even begin to think about how certain people in Thedas would use the knowledge of multi-dimensions for.”_

_Echo stared at the window above the kitchen sink, to the image of Ashlinn’s garden that sat in the distance. She gnawed on her lower lip, knowing that it could be a great risk to confide in Solas about the existence of Earth, but she couldn’t just sit by idle when her friend was wasting away. “I know that there is risk, but I don’t think Solas would use this information for malicious purposes. Honestly, I think he would just curious about our world, but I don’t see him as someone who is looking to conquer the entire universe. Maybe certain Tevinter Mages, but not Solas,” Echo replied, with a hearty sigh. She glanced down at her clothes which had shifted to a blue jean buttoned up shirt, and pants. It gave her a bit of nostalgia, a hint of a time when she and Ashlinn had no worries other than to pass their college exams. Everything had been so much simpler. “I trust him, Ashlinn. I’m not asking you to put your entire faith in his hands, but I am asking you to trust my judgment on this.”_

_Ashlinn expression was unyielding up until that last plea, and her blue eyes lowered while her shoulders slumped. “Okay. Okay. I can do that,” she relented, running her fingers through her dark hair. “I don’t know what good can come from this. I don’t believe there is a magical way out for me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try.”_

_Solas turned to face them upon their return into the living room, and he had a book in his hands, his thumb brushed along the spine of the novel. “I have seen the imaginations of many dreamers, and while the imagination can dream up a great many things, there is always a tangible string to reality. A root which inspires the creation of dreams, for the mind can only conceive what it perceives, but never in all those dreams have I seen the instruments and objects like these. The strange lights, books with a language that I have never encountered, the small box,” he nodded to the radio on the mantle, “that plays music without the aid of magic.”_

_“There…there is an explanation for all of this,” Echo started, wringing her hands in front of her worriedly before she gestured to the couch for him to take a seat. Solas placed the book back onto the shelf, and then settled into the black leather chair. Ashlinn perched herself on the arm of the couch, and Echo grabbed a throw pillow off the couch, wrapping her arms around it holding it to her stomach before she folded her legs underneath her and sat down on the couch. “Ashlinn, do you have any idea where to begin?”_

_“I guess I can explain some about my situation, and then we can fill in how you are connected,” Ashlinn suggested, tapping her fingers along her knee. When Echo nodded in agreement, Ashlinn swallowed and drew in a deep breath. “Alright, how to make this short and simple? I am Ashlinn Cousland, and I was a Grey Warden during the Fifth Blight. I led a group of individuals in an effort to stop the Archdemon, and we succeeded.”_

_Realization like lightning flashed through Solas’s gaze. “You are the Hero of Ferelden.”_

_“Wait? Really?” Echo turned to Ashlinn, her eyes growing wide._

_“That would be me, yes,” Ashlinn smiled, grimly._

_“The Hero died fighting the Archdemon,” Solas commented, making a steeple with his hands. He peered over his clasped fingers to the woman sitting there over the Herald’s shoulder, with his forehead furrowed._

_“A Grey Warden’s sacrifice,” Ashlinn nodded, wrapping her arms around her. Her eyes turned towards the glittering Christmas lights. The lights danced as a small tune of “silent night” filled the air. “Only a Grey Warden can destroy an Archdemon. The ability is granted to them during…the induction into the order, but there was another way. My friend, Morrigan, the apostate that travelled in the group…” Her eyelids drooped downward, a blank expression crossed her features for a split second. “She found another way. It was a spell that preserved my soul and kept it from being destroyed. She didn’t think it worked given the fact that I still died, but—” She shrugged, a bit helpless._

_Echo felt utterly slack-jawed over this new information. She knew Ashlinn said she had died during the Blight, but it never occurred to that her friend could have been one of the driving forces behind ending the Blight. It made sense, she realized, why Ashlinn had been so upset and despondent about how only ten years later the world she had once saved was in chaos once more._

_“And only things get even more complicated from there,” Ashlinn added, her gaze turned downward to Echo._

_Echo knew that Ashlinn was leaving the reveal of Earth in her hands. It did feel like it should be her reasonability since she brought Solas here, and she sat up a little straighter feeling nerves flutter around in her stomach. She was practically vibrating with anxiety, chewing on her bottom lip harshly. Her mismatched eyes turned from Ashlinn onto Solas who waited with infinite patience, despite the great number of questions she could see building up within him. “Solas, what we are about to tell you is very important,” she explained, very solemn and serious. Her fingernails bit into the soft, smooth fabric, and she could feel it tear ever so slightly. “It can’t be repeated anywhere else because it would be too dangerous, and could jeopardize a lot of people. I need you to promise that what we are about to reveal, you will keep a secret.”_

_Solas observed them both, for several seconds before he nodded. “I believe I will have no trouble in agreeing to your terms, ,” the apostate stated, carefully. “Discretion would be the best avenue of choice, given certain stigmas against the Fade and its inhabitants, but what you are about to say isn’t about the Fade, is it? There is something far greater than that you fear.”_

_“Yes, my fears run far deeper than that,” Echo whispered, the column of her throat tightened. She thought about the most easy or delicate way to unveil the information about worlds beyond just Thedas, and she blew off a deep breath. “Have you ever heard of the possibilities of other worlds? Worlds beyond Thedas and the Fade?”_

_Solas sat up, a little straighter. Whatever he had been expecting her to say, it certainly had not been that. “There have been many theories of other worlds. From the memories I collected in the Fade, the elvhen god June was said to have theorized that there were worlds out there far greater than their own, and that all worlds connected like a great web and even sought to find a way to explore them. His endeavors ceased abruptly after the other gods grew concerned that it would drawn the attentions of something dangerous,” the elvhen commented, a thousand thoughts shifting like shadows behind his blue eyes. “Are you saying there is truth to June’s theory?”_

_Echo had realized that when Solas used the memories in the Fade to relay knowledge, that he was more often than not speaking from his own past experiences, especially when it came to magic or elvhen culture. Of course, Ashlinn had no idea that he was the Dread Wolf so she didn’t comment. Instead, she felt a bit relieved that the elvhen had theorized about other worlds because it might make explaining all this a great deal easier. “Yes, there is,” Echo nodded. “Ashlinn was…was reincarnated in a different world called Earth and I was there with her, too.”_

_“Truly?” Solas glanced at her, a hint of surprise._

_“Yes.”_

_“And you lived as if you were there in the flesh? Not as a spirit?”_

_“She did,” Ashlinn replied._

_“Fascinating,” he breathed out._

_“Any insight that you can provide would be grateful,” Echo stated._

_“This…situation is highly unorthodox,” Solas said, rising out of his seat and started to pace along the hardwood floor. He rubbed his chin, thoughtfully and had his other hand braced on his hip. His lips moved as he talked quietly to himself, as if he needed a moment to sort out his thoughts. “If we theorize that Echo was in uthenera, then it is possible…”_

_“Is it possible what?” Echo asked, curiously._

_“I would need time and aid to confirm it,” Solas glanced at her._

_“We would still like to hear your theory, nonetheless,” Ashlinn said, with a light frown. “A possible explanation is better than no explanation.”_

_Solas reflected on her words, before he inclined his head. “Many believe the Veil has always existed since the beginning of the world, but it was not always so. Once upon a time, there was no separation from the waking world and the Fade such as there is today. They existed together in a delicate harmony, but when the Veil was construction, it caused a great deal of devastation not only to Thedas but to the Fade. Elves that had fallen into uthenera before the Veil’s construction, the binds that tied them to their flesh and bones was snapped and severed to the point of no return. Seldom few held onto to themselves by a fraying thread, while many were lost to the voids and others turned into—” He cut himself off, his head turning away from them and hid his expression. “I believe Echo is one of the few that succeeded where many others had failed, and returned to her body, and to the world of the living after a time.”_

_Unpleasant sensations swirled in her gut at that thought. “Alright, let’s say that is true. Then how does Ashlinn and my time on Earth fit in with all of this?” Echo asked._

_“As you know, there is much speculation that when souls pass from this world they must pass through the Void,” Solas explained, his eyes bright with wonder. “If that were true, it is possible that when your soul was saved to due to this Morrigan’s spell, that it crossed through the Void.”_

_Ashlinn blinked, her brows furrowed together. “If Echo was in uthenera than her soul could have been cast adrift, and if that were so then my soul could have encountered hers as I was being…reincarnated?” She guessed, uncertainly. “You think that Echo latched onto me during that, and that’s why she managed to appear on Earth after a time?”_

_Echo’s face twisted. “What? Are we really considering that I am some kind of magical parasite here?”_

_Solas chuckled. “Not the metaphor that I would use, but it is not an incorrect assumption. As I have stated before many of the elvhen in uthenera lost themselves after the construct of the Veil. Few had ties so strong to keep them from fading, or worse,” the elvhen man said, reclaiming the leather chair. He seemed utterly captivated by the possibility the two women presented, and how another world may have aided in their survival. “You were likely fading and lost, doomed to the same fate as so many before you when Ashlinn’s soul crossed your path. There must have been something familiar about her to you, something that called to you and you followed her. You likely drew strength from here, and in time this gave you the ability to manifest physically onto Earth. It would only make sense that with this new form, you would be befriend the person who had become your soul-sibling, for lack of better description.”_

_Echo felt her heart plummet into her stomach, and all the warmth seemed to drain out of her skin. A memory slashed through her mind with razor sharp precision, and her panicked eyes latched onto Ashlinn’s face. “You said…you said that I got into the accident because I had gotten upset with my parents over something,” she hyperventilated, squeezing the pillow so tight that it was a wonder that the stuff didn’t explode out the sides. Images of a dark and stormy night flared to life, and she remembered the pain and panic she felt before getting into the vehicle. The dimly lit road, the ways the tires skidded across the slick water, and more all crashed through her. “They didn’t…they didn’t remember me…My parents didn’t remember…”_

_Ashlinn’s lips parted, to say something and then she bowed her head._

_“Oh, my God,” Echo gasped, feeling her stomach lurch painfully. “I think I am going to be sick.”_

Echo was jolted awake a hot prickling feeling pull tight along her skin and her stomach churning harshly. She managed to push herself up on her arm and legs, crawling out of the back end of the tent and puked up all the contents in her stomach on the ground. She heaved, the bile burning the back of her throat and up through her nostrils when fingers carefully drew her hair away from her face, and she saw Solas kneeling there out of the corner of her eye. His shirt wrinkled with the haste that he threw it on with, and his eyes still a bit bleary from being jarred from sleep. “Calm yourself, _lethallin_ ,” he whispered, placing his other palm against the back of her neck. There was a gentle burst of cold against the nape of her neck that cooled off the uncomfortable heat in her flesh, and released some of the tension in her veins. 

She breathed out, sharply the way his magic folded in around her and she weakly pulled away from his touch. Her eyes were clenched shut, and she rest back against a large boulder. She took in several gulps of air before a semblance of calm was restored, and she peeled her eyes open to gauge the elvhen in front of her. “It wasn’t real, was it? My life there on…” she trailed off, wary of the ears that could be listening in. She glanced around warily, and when satisfied there was no Inquisition soldiers within earshot. “It wasn’t real. It had been nothing more than a dream.” 

“Just because it was a dream does not mean it was not real,” Solas frowned, heavily. “The impact it had on you was very much real and important, even if the dream itself could not hold and last forever. It was real for the people that surrounded you, even if they cannot remember it.” 

“I’m not sure I can believe that,” Echo said, shakily. She wiped both hands down her face, and heaved an aggravated breath. “I was waking up here. That’s why they forgot me. I bet other forgot me, too. Ashlinn maybe would have in time, but I dragged her with me here somehow. I was dying there on that world and her being in close proximity to me—I dragged her here. Her being stuck in the Fade is entirely my fault.” 

“It is a rare bond your soul formed with hers,” Solas commented, wisely. He did not condemn her or soothe her with words, knowing that neither would help ease the ache inside of her chest. “Soul bonds are most commonly formed with lovers, tying two souls together for a lifetime of commitment and love. However, there are soul bonds that are of different and platonic nature such as the one that you have with Ashlinn. You are like twins born worlds apart, but uniquely linked. Your fading dream ended, I would hazard a guess that Ashlinn would have gone sick and passed in your absence. Her soul could have been at peace, but I think it would have been far more likely she would have ended up in the Fade anyways.” 

“Why would you say that?” 

“The two of you have been dependent on the other to survive for so long, for that link to be broken so abruptly would have hurt you both. Your magic might have unconsciously chosen the best path that it could to save you both.” 

“If this is the best path, I’d hate to the worse one,” Echo scoffed, lightly. It was all theoretical but she was sort of hoping that Solas was right about his assumptions. It would put her mind more at ease, though it couldn’t erase the guilt or feeling of loss that pulsed through her with each heartbeat. She blinked back the tears that had gathered into the corner of her eyes, and she glanced up at the sky that was alright starting to lighten with the oncoming dawn. “Was…was Ashlinn alright? My emotions got to me and—” 

“She was fine,” Solas reassured her. “She bid me to go after you, and she hardly seems the type to begrudge another their emotions.” 

“You are right. She isn’t,” Echo sighed, lightly. “I just feel horrible. We went to her to try and help her out, but I let myself get overwhelmed. I can’t help but feel a little selfish.” 

“Feeling grief over people you lost and who were important to you is hardly selfish,” Solas told her, with a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “It is unlikely would have gotten much further with our conversation in the Fade anyhow, given the fact that dawn is nearly upon us. The Seeker is very determined to wake very earlier and make the most of the day.” 

“Not an early morning person, are you?” Echo suppressed a smile. 

“Early mornings do not bother beyond cutting into my time in the Fade,” Solas replied. 

“That’s not a no.” 

Somehow Echo found herself on her feet. She felt very unsteady, like something in core had been shaken loose and with each step she took, it rattled and clanked somewhere hidden in her chest. Her mind kept going over her memories, of her parents trying to give her any indication that it had been false, but it made emptiness gnaw merciless at her gut. She got dressed, and then settled around the campfire with Solas following soon after. 

Cassandra awoke about ten minutes later, and joined them. “You two are up early,” the Seeker grunted, accepting a bowl of what appeared to be oatmeal. 

“Woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” Echo brushed off, simply. She bit into the small apple that was her breakfast; the green apple was juicy and tart just the way she liked them. “When Varric gets up and gets his food, we can get up and head to see Master Dennet.” 

“We should also investigate into these bandits,” Cassandra commented, frowning. 

“We could send out scouts, and if they find the bandits stronghold then we might be able to do something about them,” Echo suggested, with a lazy roll of her shoulder. 

“It might be prudent to have the garrison to hold off their return to the Crossroad,” Solas said, setting his bowl carefully on the ground. “If these bandits are a threat as much as the Inquisition soldier reported, it would do well to have numbers on our side.” 

“True enough,” the Seeker nodded. 

Varric trudged out of his tent, with a wide yawn. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Echo teased, the dwarf over the rim of her cup. 

“You are way too chirper, way too early, Mockingbird,” Varric groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. He plopped down on a log beside Cassandra, ignoring the scowl she sent his way. “So what is on the agenda today? Maiming, killing, or a variation of the two?” 

Cassandra scoffed, lightly. 

“Something like that,” Echo laughed. 

* * *

The walk to the farms was a short one. They passed the golden fields in which the druffalo roamed, and people laboring in the fields when Echo spotted a familiar face. She started walking a bit faster, and was in a near full sprint by the time she reached the stables where Seanna was (Cassandra in the background was demanding what was going on). “Seanna!” Echo called out, and the short haired female turned around. 

“Echo, by the Maker, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Seanna smiled, stepping down of the stool where she was brushing down a horse. “I had to admit when you didn’t return, I thought that you had gotten up in the war or had decided to leave for greener pastures.” 

“I…I got caught up in the war, you could say,” Echo stated, tugging on her glove that covered up her mark self-consciously. 

Seanna paused, glancing over her shoulder curiously at Cassandra, Solas and Varric. “Who are your friends?” Her dark eyes glanced across the symbol on Cassandra’s armor, and she tilted her head slightly to the side. “Are you all with the Inquisition?” 

“Uh, yes. We are. We are here to speak to your father, but I…I had some questions I wanted to ask you first, if that’s alright,” Echo said, feeling her pulse start to race a little faster. She didn’t know if she could handle any more bad news today, half of her was hesitant to ask and to know because it couldn’t be undone. Yet she knew that she couldn’t ignore this, and needed to ask about the people who she had considered her friends. 

“Of course,” Seanna nodded. 

“I have been to the Crossroads, but there…there are quite a few faces missing. Gilda wasn’t in her hut, and Mathias and his family were gone, too,” she spoke, her brows knotted together. She couldn’t help the bleakness that overcame her when she watched Seanna’s expression fall, and her heart clenched tight in her chest. “They are gone, aren’t they?” 

Seanna swallowed, the corners of her mouth turned downward. “The Maker was kind to Gilda. She passed shortly before the war swallowed the Hinterlands up, so she was spared the devastation. We took in her cat, Tilly, since papa said we needed a good mouser,” Seanna said, glancing down at the cat that looped around her ankles and purred loudly. “Mathias and his family, I don’t know what happened to them. Only that they decided to leave right before the Templars showed up. I don’t if they caught in those bastards’ path, or if they managed to get somewhere safe. I am sorry, Echo,” she added, with a miserable expression on her face. “I wish there was more that I could tell you than that.” 

“It wasn’t the answers I was hoping for, but it…it is better than the ones I feared. While Mathias and his family is fate is unknown that still leaves us with a bit of hope,” Echo said, her voice soft. The emptiness inside of her seemed to grow and gather strength, turning her body into a swirling pit of growing depression and despair. She mentally grabbed all the dark emotions festering unchecked, and imagined locking them into a box, shoving it into the back of her mind. It only offered the briefest of respite, and was a temporary balm at best. 

“Hope is as kind as it is cruel,” Solas murmured, from behind her. 

It was a sentiment that she’d like to deny, but couldn’t. Echo bowed her head, her shoulders were tensed up in a ramrod straight line and she heaved a deep exhale. “Thank you, Seanna. I hope we get a chance to talk more before we leave.” 

“And race,” Seanna added, with a tiny laugh. “It’s be a while since I had a good race.” 

“And that,” Echo nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. After the farewells were said, she with her companions trudged up the hill towards the main in which Seanna stated her father would be. The approached the building and saw a man laboring outside to load up a wagon with what appeared to be bags of seeds. “Excuse me, sir. Are you Master Dennet?” 

The working man turned around scrutinizing their group with brown eyes. He was a tall man with a dark complexion, and years of hard work had carved lines into his face. “So you are Inquisition, are you?” He commented, tone almost wry. “Hear you are trying to bring order back. About high time someone did, though I didn’t imagine that it would come in the form of a wanderer elven trader. Yes, I am indeed Dennet.” 

“Good day, Master Dennet,” Cassandra started, diplomatically. At least, as diplomatically as the Seeker could be. “The Inquisition is looking to acquire you aid given that you worked with Arl Eamon for a such a long time, and bred some of the best horses in all of Ferelden.” 

“As much of an honor as that would be, my concerns are keeping my farm and the people safe. I can’t just send a hundred of the finest horses across a war torn land like a letter. Every bandit from here to Haven would be on them like flies on crap,” Dennet huffed, stacking the bag of herbs in the back of the cart. “Until you can prove to me that they won’t end up as a cold winter’s breakfast, then maybe we can talk about this further.” 

“Reasonable terms,” Varric commented. 

“So they are,” Echo agreed, with a nod. “How can the Inquisition help?” 

“If are serious about wanting to earn my help then speak to my wife Elaina, she manages the farms and my farmhand Bron oversees my security,” Dennet told them, with his arms crossed. “They would know more about the situations that need to be handled currently than I do. Now if you will excuse me. These aren’t going to load themselves.” 

“Until then,” Echo dipped her head in acknowledgement, and then turned on heel. She scanned the farms until she saw Elaina—whom she recognized from her times at the Crossroads—and started to make her way over when Cassandra made her halt. “Is something the matter, Cassandra?” 

“You knew Dennet’s daughter? Why did you not tell the Inquisition?” Cassandra frowned, deeply. 

“I didn’t realize that would be important,” she replied, with an eyebrow arched. 

“We were trying to gain Master Dennet’s cooperation. If we had known—” The Seeker began, but Echo cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. 

“Dennet is a person who judges a person’s merit for himself. He would not rely on his daughter’s word alone,” Echo said, her brows pinched together in aggravation. “Besides, I don’t view my friend’s as pawns for my personal gain.” 

Varric chuckled, drolly. “The Inquisition has to spread their influence, Mockingbird. You may not see the people you know as assets, but you are going to have to learn. With the Inquisition having seldom few allies as it stands, so where you can gain them you are going to have to be prepared to grease a few palms along the way or have people put in a good word for you in the right ears,” the dwarf shrugged, waltzing up alongside of them. “Now can we go find some excitement? Bianca is getting restless.” 

Cassandra nearly rolled her eyes. “And Maker forbid that happen.” 

“Look at that? Another joke from the Seeker,” Varric smirked. “Keep this up, and soon you’ll be a regular court jester.” 

“And take away your title? Perish the thought,” Cassandra stated, dryly. 

Echo snorted in amusement. The group made their way over to Elaina who filled them in on the troubles the famers had encountered with a group of unusual wolves. “Ever since the rift appeared, the wolves have gone mad. Rabid and fierce approaching humans without an ounce of fear and actively attacking our farmers,” she explained, her voice raspy with worry. “It is as if they have become infected with the water sickness, but there are no traces of it in any other animals. It is almost like the darkspawn or when the undead attacked, they seem possessed.” 

“A demon could have preyed upon them,” Solas commented. “The animals are frightened, sensing the change that the Breach had created in the world and are most vulnerable to being controlled and manipulated by beings of the Fade.” 

“If it is a demon, then we should find it and put an end to it,” Cassandra asserted, grimly. “A demon cannot be allowed to roam around unchecked to cause such havoc.” 

“At least, Bianca won’t be bored.” 

“I don’t think Bianca is going to be bored for a long time, Varric,” Echo told him, with a breathless laughter. She made her way towards the cabin in which Elaina indicated that Bron would be working inside, and she knocked on the open door to announce her presence. 

“There were a couple of elves, up by the elven ruins. We tried to approach them, but the mage created a wall of ice and the two of them ran off. I don’t know what they want with the ruins, but with all the demons and their fondness for taking over corpses, the people are antsy that we may face the hell that happened ten years ago with the undead,” said Bron, clearly agitated. “If I had the men to spare, we could have dealt with it ourselves, but between the bandits trying to steal the horses and demons trying to kill us all, we have been spread thin. We were planning on having some security towers built to watch and guard the main road, but now we can’t even do that.” 

“The Inquisition has men to spare,” Cassandra said, with a thoughtful look. “If you were to mark where you wished to have these watchtowers built, I’m sure the Commander would send soldiers to help aid you in the construction and lend arms for better security until the conditions of the area get better.” 

Bron stared for a moment. “You’re Inquisition is willing to do that?” 

“I see no reason why not,” Echo told him. “It seems to be in both our best interests, right?” 

The Seeker nodded. “Indeed.” 

Bron pulled out a map from the shelf in the corner, and he rolled it out across the desk. Uncorking a bottle of an ink, he dipped the quill in it and marked the places on the map. “We have chosen five locations that are strategically places all along the King’s Road that will give us early warning against oncoming bandits and the like.” 

With the map tucked away in her knapsack, Echo and the others started to make their way along the road. “The cave that Elaina indicated that the wolves had been tracked is just northeast of here, beyond the river,” Echo said, shifting the strap of her quiver that was chaffing the side of her neck. “Perhaps that is where we should start?” 

“So into the wolves’ den?” Varric arched a brow. “Because that always ends well.” 

Echo fought very diligently to not look at Solas. She felt her stomach clench when she failed, her eyes flickered up to meet his for a moment and then darted away with a hot flush on her face. She was already in the wolf’s den, little Red Riding Hood making friend’s with a beast and even though, there was a tentative trust, the thought still remained: _How long until she would be gobbled up?_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER! Not as much as I wanted to get done in this chapter, but I hope you all enjoyed! :D  
> 1.) The snarky side of me was like this should be chapter should be called “Echo introduces Solas to the wonders of Disney” with such a cheesy beginning, but I heard the song and I couldn’t get the image out of my head. It had to start with this, and my muse would accept nothing less. I also agree with Echo’s assessment of Solas. He would be curious about Earth and what it was like, but I don’t think he would ever use the knowledge to attempt to make contact. His people on Thedas is what his concern is, and I don’t see him conquering worlds for the hell of it.  
> 2.) The “Measuring the Veil” quest, I have altered. In the game canon, the elven ruins that we met Mihris are towards the east of the Crossroads (nearby the East Road where you encounter bandits) and obviously, Dennet’s Farm lay to the west of the Crossroad. I don’t have a reason yet for the group to go the East Road just yet, but wanted to lay the foundation for “Measuring the Veil”, given that one of the artifacts is in an abandon house on Dennet’s farm. I have changed the location of the artifact from an abandoned house (like how did it get? Why?) and placed in the elven ruins behind Redcliffe farms, thus combining the two quests “Measuring the Veil” and “What Lies Dormant”. I hope this clears up any confusion on the matters.


End file.
